


What You Want to Be

by orphan_account



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Consent Issues, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gang Violence, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his wife and child to gang violence in the big city, Max moves to a small town to continue his career and recover from his loss. What he finds, though, is another gang, very different from the ones he left behind--and perhaps even more dangerous. This time, however, maybe there's something he can do.</p><p>(Or: The Cop AU That No One Wanted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strays

**Author's Note:**

> Someone said they wanted a story where Nux didn't die, and I want that too. So I made an AU. Unlike my last story, I kind of have no idea where this is going--unfortunately that means updates won't be as quick. The good news is I anticipate this one being a little longer. Or a lot longer. We'll see.
> 
> If you have ideas on where you want the story to go, or even little things you want to see in here, feel free to mention them! This could be something of a collaborative work.
> 
> Also, I'm not a cop and I don't live in Australia. Please excuse the errors that will occasionally arise from my lack of expertise in those areas. If there are glaring mistakes that you simply can't overlook, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them!

Max leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers over his crew cut, looking out his windshield at the street. It was a quiet night, so far. He liked that. That was what he'd moved here for.  
  
He and his partner, Furiosa, worked in relative silence most of the time, and tonight was no different. She didn't feel the need to fill the silence with chatter, and he was eternally grateful for that. He wasn't much of a talker anymore, ever since...well he wasn't going to think about that. He wanted to get some sleep when he got home, and if he followed that train of thought, he'd never catch a wink.   
  
But the peace didn't last long. They could hear the screech of tires on asphault from a few streets down, and they paused only to cast each other a glance before Max took the Holden out of park and tore out from their parking space. Unlike some of his former partners, Max felt no disappointment when the quiet-time ended. It wasn't excitement, exactly, that he felt, but determination. He wasn't being paid to sit around all night--he was being paid to keep the peace. If the peace kept itself, fantastic; if not, that was where he came in.  
  
Sure enough, as they rounded the corner from the alley they'd been parked in, another car flashed by on a perpendicular road at the end of the street. His mounted speed gun went off, but he ignored it and hit the gas. He didn't need a radar to tell him that car was going way too damn fast.  
  
It was still on the same street when they pulled out onto it, lights already flashing. The few other cars that were still out late on a weeknight pulled to the side of the road to make way, and Max gained on the speeding car. It was pretty clear the Prelude (it was modified, but definitely a Prelude) didn't have any intention of pulling over, and Max muttered a curse as he came up on the tail of it, expecting it to speed up. He had no idea what kind of modifications were on the engine, but it could no doubt outrun his Holden, he was sure of that.  
  
What he didn't expect was a sudden and violent brakecheck. He heard Furiosa yelp even over his own shout as the car jerked, metal scraping against metal. Before he knew it, he looked up to see the Prelude speeding off (minus a rear fender) and he stamped on the gas again. Like hell he was going to let that piece of shit go after he pulled that.  
  
He didn't make the same mistake twice. Once they got within a decent range, he eased off the gas a little. Whoever was in that car was playing with him, and Max did not play games. "Grab the wheel," he barked at Furiosa, who reached over to grab it, although there was a question in her eye.   
  
Max ignored it and grabbed his sidearm to lean out his window. He took careful aim, evened his breathing. Squeezed the trigger. The back left wheel on the Prelude popped and the car swerved violently.   
  
"Rockatansky!" Furiosa snapped. Max just grunted. So it was a little unorthodox. They didn't call him Mad Max for nothing.  
  
But the Honda didn't stop. It limped, screamed, protested, but the driver didn't seem to pay it much attention. Fortunately, with one dead tire, it was slow enough that they could catch up. Max took the wheel again and brought them up on the right side, the parallel lane going the same direction. It was the main road they were on, four lanes wide not including the suicide lane in the middle. But the speed they were going, it wouldn't be, soon. They were approaching the edge of town, where there was only a two-lane highway that led out to the countryside.  
  
As they pulled up on the side of it, a man leaned out the passenger side window--he had a shaved head, looked to be in his twenties, and awful scars on his cheeks. He was pale, almost reflectively pale in the Holden's headlights. And he had a tommy gun.   
  
Furiosa hissed a curse. Uncharacteristic--sure, a gunfight was a little more than they'd bargained for on a Thursday night, but she was usually level-headed almost to a fault when it came to danger.  
  
Before he could ask, the hood of their Holden was peppered with rounds and Max dropped back and behind them, dipping into the suicide lane to come up on the other side of the car. "Don't!" Furiosa snapped, but before Max could even glance at her, their front right headlight was blown out by what sounded like a shotgun blast. The driver, swerving dangerously with one hand and both eyes preoccupied with something other than driving, had been aiming at their tire. He looked...just like the passenger. Pale, shaved, the only thing missing was a Glasgow grin. Max dropped back behind the Prelude this time. "What the hell!"  
  
Furiosa was already at work. She leaned out the other window and took a shot of her own, at the functioning back tire. It blew out. Max thanked God he was paired with the only other shooter in the precinct who was better than him.  
  
The Prelude swerved again, and the driver overcorrected. The nose ended up wrapped around a thick metal lightpole on the other side of the street, and Max hit the brakes. By the time he and Furiosa were out, pistols leveled, the passenger had already made a break for it, sprinting for the nearest alleyway. Furiosa tore out after him, shouting. She fired a shot as he rounded the corner, and Max almost followed on impulse, _back up your partner_ , but the driver, having failed to force open the half-crushed driver's side door, had crawled out through the passenger's side and took off as well. But he was limping and, in spite of his own bad leg, Max was faster. In a practiced move, he holstered his gun to grab his taser. He aimed and fired in almost the same motion--the probes caught the man's bare back (he was only wearing a pair of black cargo pants), and he went down on his knees with a yelp, convulsing. But as Max approached, he struggled to his feet again, resuming his mad dash with the probes still on him. He was on something. Plan B. Max lunged at the man's waist and tackled him to the ground. He was taller than Max, but skinny--wiry, Max revised as he felt the man squirm and buck to try and throw him off. He managed to wriggle wildly enough to get himself turned onto his back and threw a fist. Max planted a knee on his stomach, rewarded with a satisfying grunt, and leaned back to dodge the punch. With nothing to stop it, the swing overreached and Max grabbed the pale forearm to pin it to the man's chest, and set his other knee on the remaining arm, resting his full weight on his knees.  
  
Up close, Max could see the man--no, boy, he couldn't have been more than seventeen--had scars of his own. One started on the right side of his face, just above his ear, and dipped down as low as his cheekbone. His lips had been gashed in straight vertical lines across the length of them, giving him a rather skeletal look, and the huge, intricate scarification on his chest was certainly no mistake. Straight, intentional lines made up what he could see of it, which was not much with the kid's arm covering most of it. And he was definitely high. His pupils were enormous, almost eclipsing the bright ocean blue irises that ringed them.  
  
"Hey. Hey! Simmer down," Max growled as the boy began to writhe again. "Gonna hurt yourself."  
  
He got a glob of saliva in the face for his efforts and he cursed, twisting to wipe away the spit. Now he'd have to get tested for HIV. Fan-fucking-tastic.  
  
"Alright, you're done," Max announced, grabbing for his handgun with his free arm and planting the barrel against the kid's forehead. He wasn't really a cold-blooded murderer, there's no chance in hell he'd pull the trigger (he hadn't even taken it off safety, for Christ's sake), but he also wasn't above scare tactics. Making the kid piss his pants was a sight better than beating the shit out of him, anyway, even though it wasn't a technically authorized approach. Mad Max, indeed.  
  
In any case, it finally looked like the kid had the fear of God put in him, and Max eased a little of his weight off. To his surprise, the kid didn't try and make a break for it. Good. "Roll over. On your stomach. Slow!" Max barked, carefully following the kid's movements until he was laying on his front. He kept the barrel on the back of the kid's head and grabbed both wrists, commanding him to keep them still once he'd placed them in the middle of the boy's lower back. He took out his cuffs and locked them on, snug but not tight enough to cut into skin, then finally holstered his sidearm. Once all that was done, he pulled out the probes still lodged into the kid's back and tossed them aside.  
  
He heard footsteps and looked up, keeping the kid pinned with a knee in his back. Furiosa was jogging back towards him, looking a little worn out but uninjured. "He climbed a fire escape ladder, I lost him on the rooftops," she panted, slowing to a walk as she came closer.  
  
"Forgotten all your training now that you turned coat, Furiosa?" Max looked down when the kid spoke. His voice was surprisingly low, gravelly for his age.  
  
"Shut your damn mouth," Max growled in response. He wanted to know what the hell the kid was talking about, how he knew Furiosa's name, but that was a question he could ask his partner later. Questioning Furiosa in front of some kid they had in custody would be opening a lot of doors he didn't want to open, not to mention crossing almost every professional line he could think of.  
  
Max finally moved to a crouching position and grabbed the kid underneath his armpits to haul him to his feet--not as hard as he'd thought it would be. He moved one hand to the kid's bicep as Furiosa stepped closer, her expression as cool as ever. "I see you're still doing an old man's dirty work, Nux," she said.  
  
Instead of responding, the kid--Nux, apparently, what kind of a name was that?--spat again.  
  
"Hey!" Max snapped, grabbing Nux's jaw with his free hand and forcing him to turn his head away. "Quit that. Do I gotta muzzle you?"  
  
Furiosa shook her head a little and leaned down to pick up Max's taser, then walked back to the Holden. It was shot up, but operable. It'd get them back to the station, anyway.  
  
Furiosa got into the driver's seat and called in for a tow truck as he loaded Nux, with only some difficulty, into the back seat. As he took his place in the passenger's seat, Max glanced over at Furiosa, but she kept her eyes forward, watching the street. They only had to wait a few minutes before the tow truck showed up. A few dull thumps from the backseat made Max look around, to see Nux absentmindedly knocking his temple against the part of the door that edged the window. He looked distressed, his eyes trained on his Honda and his brows knit, but when Max reached back to stop him, Furiosa shook her head minutely. Max withdrew his hand. Apparently, Furiosa knew the kid, and Max wasn't about to ignore her advice. He wasn't trying to lose a finger, and for some reason, he didn't put biting past Nux.  
  
When they got back to the station, Max was a little surprised at the ease with which they went through the arrest process. The kid knew what he was doing. He was sullen, withdrawn, but cooperative.  
  
Until, of course, they took him to the interrogation room.  
  
Max and Furiosa stood on one side of the one-way mirror, looking at Nux through it. "I don't get it," Max said after a few minutes of silence as they watched the kid fidget. "Why are we interrogating him? Seems pretty cut and dry to me."  
  
"It is," Furiosa agree, not taking her eyes off of Nux. "But we're going to try and get more out of him."  
  
Before he could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Furiosa turned and stepped into the room with Nux. Max gave an exasperated sigh and grabbed a chair.  
  
"I want a phone call." He sounded downright petulant, and he looked even younger underneath the glare of the flourescent lights.  
  
"You'll get one. Tell me what Joe sent you out tonight for."  
  
"No comment," Nux muttered, yanking experimentally on the cuffs that chained him to the table (he'd already done it five times before Furiosa had come in).   
  
"Where are you living now?"  
  
"No comment."  
  
"How about Slit? He's old enough to be on his own now. Been staying with him?"  
  
Silence this time; Nux scowled at his fists.  
  
"You're still underage, Nux. Joe's not going to help you."  
  
"Shut up," Nux growled.  
  
"I'm just letting you know. At best, you're looking at juvenile detention. But since you have a record, and you had an illegal firearm that you discharged at police officers, you'll most likely be tried as an adult. What are you now, sixteen? That's old enough."  
  
Nux was growing increasingly agitated as Furiosa talked and paced in front of him. "I mean if you want to take your chances in prison, I don't recommend it. The guys at state penitentiaries don't give a damn about small fish like Joe, and you're not nearly as scary as you think you are. Once they realize all your scars don't make you tough, you'll be done for. I bet--"  
  
"Shut up!" Nux screamed, jumping to his feet. He leaned over the table, an ugly snarl contorting his face, but Furiosa didn't seem phased. She stopped pacing, looked at him, one arm crossed over her stomach and the other elbow resting atop it, her hand at her mouth, tapping her lips thoughtfully.  
  
"We can help you get out of this mess, Nux," she said, gently now. "You can avoid all that stuff entirely, Capable will find you a new home, a safe place to--"  
  
"No!" Nux snapped. "She can't! I don't want a new home, I don't need a safe place, I need a phone call!"  
  
Furiosa frowned and gestured at the chair. "Sit down." When Nux didn't move, her frown deepened and she dropped her arms, moving her stance a little wider. "Sit down, Nux," she said, more forcefully.  
  
Surprisingly, Nux, apparently cowed by some simple aggressive body language, took his seat again, albeit sulkily. Furiosa grabbed the phone, sitting on a stand in a corner of the room, and slammed it down in front of Nux. "Make it quick," she said, and rejoined Max.  
  
From the other side of the window, Max watched as Nux dialed a number, then held the receiver to his ear and put his forehead down on the edge of the table. Smart. They wouldn't be able to hear what he was saying, or read his lips. The kid wasn't new.   
  
"Who's Joe?" Max asked when Furiosa stepped up beside him.  
  
"Local small time drug lord. Takes in strays who run away from their foster homes, calls them his boys. It's something of a gang," she explained, not taking her eyes off of Nux.  
  
"And you know this one?" Max hazarded, gesturing to Nux.   
  
Furiosa nodded vaguely, but didn't offer more explanation. Max decided not to push, not right now.  
  
Nux was still on the phone when the door to the hallway flew open and a redhead with a pretty, round face stepped in. "Toast called me, she said--oh!" Capable cut herself off when she caught sight of Nux. "Thank God. I'm so glad you found him."  
  
"What's the rookie doing calling up social workers?" Max grunted in irritation.  
  
Furiosa gave a small smirk and looked down at Capable. "Don't get your hopes up. He's calling Joe right now."  
  
"You don't know that," Capable said. "Let me talk to him. I know you've already got him riled up, so thanks for the extra work I'll be doing tonight. I don't get overtime, remember."  
  
Furiosa waved her hand. "Fine, you talk to him. He's got a soft spot for you, maybe he'll listen to sense without me having to beat it into him."  
  
"That's not funny," Capable frowned.  
  
Max rolled his eyes, but Furiosa smiled a little.  
  
"Well," Max said, looking at his watch. "If you two have got this under control, I'm going to head out. My shift was over forty-five minutes ago," he said.  
  
Furiosa, having taken a file from Capable, nodded and muttered a goodbye as she leafed through the papers. Capable offered and equally vague farewell, looking over Furiosa's shoulder.   
  
He walked out into the cool autumn night and remotely unlocked his Interceptor as he walked briskly through the near-empty parking lot. When he got to his car, he glanced up to the road where he'd heard an engine running since he'd gotten out of the station. The car that had been waiting at a stoplight on the road in front of the station sped off, but Max thought he caught a glimpse of a pale face with a Glasgow grin. He shook his head vigorously and rubbed at his eyes. He must be more tired than he'd thought.   
  
Max lived outside town a little ways--just enough to feel like he wasn't in a city, but ultimately a short drive from the town limits. It was only about five minutes along the highway before he made the turn into his gravel driveway, rolled up to the door of his garage, and frowned when a car drove past on the highway behind him. There wasn't usually any traffic out at 2:30 in the morning on a Thursday. Well, Friday, now.  
  
He got out of his car stiffly and slammed the door shut, locked it. When he was alone, he didn't bother to hide his limp, and it felt like an eternity before he got to his front door. He paused in sorting his keys when, again, headlights reflected off his house. But they kept going, so he returned his attention to getting into his house. It had been a strange night.  
  
Silence greeted him as he opened the door. He didn't turn on a light as he closed and locked the door, pulled off his jacket, and stripped out of his uniform on the way to his bedroom. The bedroom was only a formality--he kept his clothes in the closet and the bed made up, but as soon as he'd put his uniform away, he returned to the living room in only boxers and collapsed on the couch. Grabbing the remote, he flipped the TV on, then pulled the blanket that he kept on the back of the couch over him, kicking it to spread it out.   
  
The sound of the TV and the exhaustion that resulted from the adrenaline high from the fight lulled him to sleep before he could think about anything that would keep him awake. Still, he had strange and confusing dreams that night, about Glasgow grins and skulls where a boy's face should be.  
  



	2. Family Night

  
"Explain to me one more time why he's here," Max muttered to Furiosa as they set about cutting up vegetables for the salad.   
  
"Capable is a lisenced foster care--"  
  
"Isn't that a conflict of interest of some kind?" Max interrupted irritably.  
  
"Technically, Nux isn't one of Capable's cases. He's Cheedo's. And Cheedo isn't here tonight," Furiosa explained, chopping some cucumber rather aggressively, then throwing them into the salad bowl. "So no. It's not."  
  
Max just shook his head. Dinner with a local gangster was not what he'd had in mind when he'd agreed to a transfer to a small town station.  
  
They did this every few weeks, whenever the majority of them had the night off. For some reason, the girls, with Furiosa as their ringleader, had integrated him into their small social circle. He couldn't complain. They didn't expect much of him. Conversation wasn't a requirement--only attendence, when his work schedule allowed, and helping to make the food. It was good, really. It got him out of the house, and it was comforting to know he had friends keeping tabs on him on his days off. Making sure he didn't completely go off the deep end.  
  
It was a little strange spending his off time with a group comprised largely of women. Of course, there was Ace, Furiosa's...well, her something. Max wasn't sure on exactly what they were, he didn't ask a lot of questions. Max wasn't even sure that was the guy's real name. He was a former soldier, with tattoos all up and down his arms. He worked as a mechanic now, ran a shop that worked on motorcycles. Max would be a little wary of him if it wasn't for Furiosa's word. Max couldn't see her entertaining anyone less than perfectly respectable.  
  
But besides Max and Ace, there was only the women. He knew them mostly by their last names. Toast, a rookie cop who made up for her height with intelligence, know-how and sheer ferocity. Cheedo and Capable were local social workers--Max had only met them a few times professionally, but they went way back with Furiosa. Dag was Cheedo's long-time girlfriend, and Max just couldn't make heads or tails of her. She was nice, but she certainly said some strange things. And then there was Angharad. She was another odd one, but not odd like Dag. She didn't say anything strange, in fact she was perhaps the most socially adaptable of all of them. If it weren't for her, their gatherings would probably consist largely of uncomfortable silences. But for all her easy conversation and quiet strength, he knew very little about her, besides that she was a surgeon, a job which she spoke surprisingly little about.  
  
And now, there was Nux, who Max really hoped was only a temporary addition.  
  
Despite Capable's insistence that, "He's harmless, _really_ ," Max kept an eye on the kid as he came into the kitchen to grab plates to set the table. Well, at least they had sense enough not to hand him cooking equipment--like knives. Nux went around the kitchen cupboards like he knew where everything was already, and Max resolved to talk to Capable about taking home strays. It just wasn't safe, especially in her line of work.  
  
He was wearing an worn white t-shirt now, but he still had on the same black cargo pants. Max watched him until he went back out to the dining room, when he finally caught Furiosa smirking at him. He grunted inquisitively, looking back down at his now empty cutting board.  
  
"Don't tell me you're scared of some kid," Furiosa teased dryly, mixing the salad and taking it off the table.  
  
"I'm not scared. I just don't think Capable should be inviting the kid who tried to kill us to dinner," he replied coolly.  
  
"He wasn't trying to kill us."  
  
"He fired a sawed-off shotgun at us!"  
  
"At our tire."  
  
"Regardless--"  
  
"Are you ready with the salad? We're all waiting on you!" Capable interrupted, sticking her head into the kitchen from the dining room. "What's taking so long?"  
  
"We're ready," Furiosa assured her, turning away from Max to follow Capable into the dining room.  
  
Max sighed and looked down at the cutting boards. He dumped them, along with the knives, into the sink, and joined the others at the dinner table.  
  
It was a nice set-up--toasted garlic bread, salad, lasagna, and green beans. Beer for himself, Furiosa, Angharad, and Ace, and wine for everyone but Nux, who just had water. He sat by Capable, who was at one end of the long dining table. Furiosa was at the far end of the other, with Ace on her right side and Max on her left. That left Toast sitting next to Ace, Angharad between her and Capable, and an empty seat between Max and Nux. Dag didn't usually come if Cheedo wasn't there, and tonight wasn't any different.  
  
As soon as Max took his seat, they dug in, passing the plates of food around. Still, Max kept his attention divided between Nux and the rest of their company. The kid didn't take any food until Capable offered it to him, Max noticed, and once the clamor over food distribution had settled down, Max watched him pick at his plate, occasionally nibbling on a forkful, then drink some water.   
  
"Max?"  
  
He looked up when he heard Angharad's voice and realized he'd missed the last five minutes of conversation. He cleared his throat and glanced around. "Sorry, what?"  
  
"Well I was talking about the shelter. We have a few adoptions I think would suit you nicely," she repeated patiently. Thankfully, they were all used to Max's social skills, or lack thereof.  
  
"Oh." Right. Angharad was always trying to get him to adopt a pet from the shelter she volunteered at. "Sure. I'll, uh...I'll swing by and check them out."  
  
"We have a lot of dogs, but I never did ask whether you liked cats. You seem like you might be a cat person," she continued, cutting into her lasagna and taking a delicate bite.  
  
"Yeah. They're...they're both good," he agreed. Really, he didn't have an opinion either way on the cat versus dog debate. He'd never actually owned a cat, besides the strays he fed on occasion, but he had had a dog. Jessie had mostly taken care of it. He wasn't sure he was ready for a dog.  
  
"You have another day off tomorrow, right? Come by and I'll show them to you," she said, with finality.  
  
Oh, no. Now he was trapped. He hadn't learned how to say no to Angharad yet. She spoke with so much authority he found himself agreeing.  
  
Once dinner was wrapped up and the dishes were moved to the sink, Toast and Angharad offered to do the dishes and the rest moved to the living room to finish their drinks. Max excused himself outside, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes. As he headed towards the door, he saw Capable nudge Nux and mutter something to him. Max quickly stepped out and shut the door behind him.  
  
He'd just lit one when the door opened again and he turned enough to see Nux slip out, shutting it gently behind him. He faced Max and there was a short, tense silence. "Can I...bum a durrie?" Nux finally asked, tilting his head to indicate the pack of cigarettes still in Max's hand.  
  
Max stared at him for a moment, silent. When he was satisfied that the kid was as uncomfortable as Max could make him, he lifted his free hand to take the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out the smoke. "I don't approve of kids smoking," he informed Nux as he offered him the pack and a lighter.  
  
A smile flickered over Nux's lips and he took a cigarette and the lighter, cupping one hand around the tip as he lit it. "Ta," he muttered, handing the lighter back. They smoked in silence for a moment, but Max could feel the kid's anxiety. So much for a relaxing smoke. Finally, he came out with it. "I, uh...I wanted to say sorry. For shooting at you. And trying to hit you," he said.  
  
Max glanced at him.  
  
"And for spitting on you." Nux coughed and shuffled his feet.  
  
Max took another long drag and blew the smoke out again. "Just...don't do it again," he muttered.  
  
Nux nodded quickly, gave a nervous laugh. "You got it."  
  
So the kid had completed his mission, that Max was sure Capable had put him up to. But they both had at least a good half a cigarette to smoke. Conversation wasn't Max's strong suit. "So...Nux, huh? What kinda name is that?"  
  
"Uh...Latin."  
  
Dead end. "How old are you?"  
  
Nux shrugged and glanced at him. "Figure about sixteen," he said, sounding suspiciously like he was guessing.  
  
Well, that wasn't a subject Max wanted to push. "What do you do? Like for fun?"  
  
"I work on cars!" The sudden enthusiasm almost made Max jump out of his skin. "All kinds. I'm best with V8 engines, though. That Honda, that one me and Slit wrecked, it was a real nice one, I'd just put a new engine in it last week. Real shine," he continued. That kept him talking until they had both burnt their cigarettes down to the filter, and Max threw his onto the concrete porch and put it out with his heel. Nux was still chattering--Max could fix a car when it was broken, but clearly Nux's expertise went far beyond tightening bolts and changing oil. He was talking at length about some kind of turbo modification, but Max had stopped really listening a while ago.   
  
Max crossed his arms and turned to face Nux fully. "You know, doing that kind of work could get you a good job. What are you doing running around with a bunch of deros?" he asked pointedly.  
  
Nux's excitement visibly melted and was replaced with indignation. "They're not deros. They took me in, it was them taught me all that," he snapped.  
  
"Sure, I bet they done a lot for you. I'm guessing they gave you the coke, too, huh?" Max challenged, narrowing his eyes.   
  
"I ain't no dobber!" Nux snapped, stepping closer.   
  
Max was saved from a response when the door opened. "Nux. Come inside." Capable, thank the Lord. It wasn't that he was afraid--Max was sure he could take a skinny teenager in a fight, even without a gun, but he didn't like to fight. Especially off duty.   
  
Nux looked from Max to Capable, and back. He shifted his weight, looking torn, but when Capable repeated his name he huffed and followed her inside.  
  
He let a few minutes pass before Max turned to go inside the house. When he stepped in and toed off his shoes, Nux and Capable were gone, and the rest were still in the living room, drinking and chatting as though they hadn't noticed anything. Furiosa cast him a glance as he sat and picked up his beer, but he shook his head a little and she didn't ask.   
  
Max didn't relax until Capable returned to the living room, minus Nux. Even then, he felt on edge for the rest of the night.   
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Nux laid in the semi-familiar guest bedroom in Capable's house, staring at the ceiling. He'd stayed at her place, off and on, usually unofficially. A few times he'd come here by himself, hadn't waited to get caught by the police and sent back into the system, but mostly it was after a bad run, a wild night. He couldn't figure out why Capable would still let him come around, but he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
A tap on the window made him jump, and he sat up in the bed, twisting around to look. He was met with a pale face with a Glasgow grin.  
  
He could still hear Capable and her friends in the other room, increasingly loud as the night went on--they were probably getting drunk. That was good. She wouldn't notice for a while, maybe not til the next morning, that he was gone. It was better for her when he left, Nux knew that. He was just trouble. But he'd never run away from her before. Other foster parents, he ditched the first chance he got, but he had never left Capable.   
  
Another insistent tap.  
  
Well, not til now.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I worked in some slang this time. Hopefully it sounds semi-natural. Some sketchy professional goings-on here, I know. I really have no excuse for that but trying to get somewhere with the plot.
> 
> The next chapter will be from Nux's POV. I was originally intending to write the whole story from Max's, but I feel like we'd all be missing out on some pretty good scenes if I didn't write a little from Nux's.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Again, any requests for little things or suggestions for plot direction are welcome! I have a couple more ideas in mind but I don't mind more.


	3. Home Sweet Home

Nux jumped out of the bed and grabbed only his pants, yanking them on and doing up the belts, then tugged on his oversized boots. Quietly, he opened the window, and Slit grabbed his arm to help drag him out. They took off without shutting the window.  
  
"The hell you been at?" Slit demanded when they slowed to a walk about half a mile from the house. Capable lived in the countryside--it wasn't hard to sneak off when there weren't any neighbors. "I been hangin' around outside all night. Gettin' soft on us, Nux? You wanna be domestic now?"  
  
"No," Nux snapped. "I couldn't get away. They were watching me like hawks."  
  
Slit snorted derisively. "Sure."  
  
Nux decided not to push it for now; he was in enough trouble for getting caught in the first place, he didn't need to be getting in fights. Not that Immortan really cared about the boys' squabbles.  
  
Slit had parked the car about a mile and a half away from the house, under a grove of trees off a dirt road that connected to the highway. It was an old, lifted diesel truck, small as trucks went, and dingy but it ran well. Of course it ran well, Nux had been the one who'd repaired it. It had had a bad axle, no alternator to speak of, and an oil leak when Immortan had gotten a hold of it. The axle had been the worst, but Nux had managed to get it fixed up in a month, just finished it last week. That was in between work on the Honda; Nux would take a fast car over a big one any day, but he wasn't the boss, so he fixed whatever Immortan gave him.  
  
Since Slit was old enough to have his own place, Nux stayed with him more often than not, although he still stayed in the back room of the shop sometimes, with the other boys who were too young to rent out a place. Usually about fifteen of them were back there on any given night, but there were quite a few more boys than that. That was why Immortan Joe paired the boys off with an older boy whenever he could--the older boys would mentor and let the younger stay at their house, and the younger one, in exchange, would do what his big brother told him.  
  
Immortan Joe himself had his own house--a few of them, Nux suspected, in other towns and cities, but he had no real evidence for that. Just rumors and a hunch. None of the boys were supposed to ever go to Immortan Joe's house by anyway. If Immortan wanted to talk to them, he knew where they all were.  
  
Nux pulled into the garage at Slit's house--it was a pretty nice place, all things considered. Immortan Joe always picked out the places where the boys stayed once they could put their name on it. It was in a bad neighborhood, but no one bothered War Boys. When someone did make trouble with one of their brothers, they weren't around for long.  
  
Slit went straight into the house, but Nux stayed in the garage. He flipped on the light, put down the garage door, and popped the hood on the truck to tinker with the engine. All the boys knew how to do repairs, and they all knew how to fight, but usually they gravitated more towards one or the other. As much as he loved shooting and scrapping, Nux was a black thumb, a natural with engines and everything surrounding them. He knew cars better than he knew himself, and he thought he loved them more, too.  
  
He'd checked all the fluids (and now it looked like the damn thing was burning oil; hopefully it was just still leaking somewhere) and had moved on to looking at the belts when Slit returned to the garage with a plate full of party pies to watch Nux work, their usual routine.  
  
Nux reached out to grab one of the rolls and Slit yanked the plate away. "Yeah right. Your hands are fucking nasty. 'Sides, you already ate," he groused, popping one into his mouth and backing up a step from Nux so he couldn't reach.  
  
"What were you, just watching us through the fuckin' windows? Creep," Nux returned, turning back to the truck to stick his hand down and pluck at one of the belts to feel its tension. It needed replaced soon.  
  
"No, dumbass, I just know when a buncha people get together at night it's usually to have dinner," Slit said dryly, moving back to the door to sit on the steps. It was quiet for a few more minutes, besides the banging around Nux was doing under the hood, as Slit finished his food, then set the paper plate on the ground and stood up, moving to Nux's side to peer in at what he was doing.  
  
"Do you ever think..." Nux trailed off as he withdrew his hands, glanced around for a wrench. Where did Slit put those things? "Do you ever think about...you know, going somewhere else?" he finally finished, abandoning his search for the wrench temporarily to turn his eyes to Slit.  
  
Slit looked back at him blankly. "Where?"  
  
"Shit, I don't know. Melbourne, maybe. Just somewhere else."  
  
Slit's confusion only seemed to grow. "Why? The fuck's in Melbourne?"  
  
"Not just--okay, forget Melbourne." Nux sighed and turned to slam the hood, left his hands on top of it. "I'm just saying, it's not like we couldn't make a living. We could work at some other shop somewhere else, or even start our own place, you know?"  
  
Nux looked up when Slit moved closer, crowding his space, and he knew he had made a mistake. "What, you wanna turn traitor like Furiosa?" He spat her name like a curse, and Nux flinched in spite of himself.  
  
"No! Not turn traitor, I don't wanna be a blue heeler, I just--" Nux waved his hand, struggling for the words. What had Max said? _You know, doing that kind of work could get you a good job_. Nux didn't know, exactly, what he wanted, all he knew was Immortan Joe and the other boys. But he wanted...something.  
  
"Sounds like that's exactly what you want to do, you filth," Slit hissed.  
  
Nux narrowed his eyes. "Shut up, Slit, I hate it when you call me that," he growled, stepping away to move around Slit, heading for the door. He didn't want a fight, and he could tell that's what Slit was gearing up for--the way he leaned in, made himself look bigger, which wasn't hard since he already had about ten kilograms on Nux. Nux decided just not to engage.  
  
But before he could make it far, a thick forearm caught him around his waist and the air was knocked out of his lungs when he was slammed back against the truck. "That's exactly what you are!" Slit snarled, boxing him in and pinning Nux to the grill with his weight. Nux struggled, squirmed and shoved at Slit's chest, but the other boy didn't move an inch. "You're _filth_ , you're nothing without Immortan, without us! Hear me, _Nux_? We knew, even when you were a kid, when you first crawled to Immortan on your hands and knees, we knew you were nothing." Nux swing his fist, aiming for Slit's face, but Slit dodged it and grabbed his wrist. His weight shifted enough that Nux could push away from the grill, but that was a mistake--Slit saw his opening and forced Nux's arm behind his back, twisting it painfully high. Smirking at Nux's yelp, Slit pushed him back again, twisting his arm up more each time Nux resisted. Slit's hand was between Nux's back and the grill, but Slit reached up to grab Nux's throat with his free hand and forced his head back at a painful angle--the grill only came up to Nux's shoulderblades, and he was already on his toes trying to relieve the pain in his shoulder. He choked and sputtered, and just when he thought Slit was really going to kill him, the pressure on his throat let up enough for him to suck in a ragged breath, still seeing stars from pain and lack of oxygen. "That's why we named you Nux," he continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. Nux just wanted him to _stop_. "Because you were nothing. And if you leave, you'll be nothing again. Is that what you want?"  
  
Nux managed to get his wits about him enough to shake his head, give Slit the answer he wanted. It wasn't entirely a lie--he didn't want that. He could still remember a little bit about before Immortan Joe had taken him in, and it was largely a part of his life he didn't like to dwell on.  
  
Slit stepped back, hauling Nux with him, and shoved the other boy to the ground. Nux grunted as he hit the concrete floor, his vision swimming. He had hit his head, judging by the way he couldn't see from his left eye quite right. Carefully, Nux pulled his arm from behind him, wincing, and just when he thought it was over, a heavy boot connected with his stomach. He yelped and curled in on himself instinctively, his arms wrapped around his middle, the pain in his shoulder temporarily forgotten.  
  
He heard footsteps, and the door into the house slammed. For several minutes, Nux didn't move. It was cold, and it seemed like his whole body hurt, but it felt good to lay there, his eyes closed, in silence. Anyway, he had to wait until it didn't feel like there were tears in his eyes anymore--Slit would only get mad again if he thought Nux was crying. He wasn't crying, for the record, it just hurt so bad his eyes watered, but it was impossible to reason with Slit when he got mad.  
  
He estimated it was about twenty minutes before he forced himself to get to his knees, then shakily onto his feet. His head pounded painfully, but he ignored it in favor of going for the door. He'd heard Slit throwing shit around inside, but that had stopped about ten minutes ago. Sure enough, it was dark and eerily quiet when he came in. Calm after the storm. There was a light on in Slit's bedroom, but Nux went straight for the bathroom. He flipped on a light and looked at the damage--not too bad. A scrape just over his brow, where he'd hit the concrete, and he must have bitten his lip at some point, because his lip was bleeding too.  
  
They always kept rubbing alcohol under the bathroom sink for the various injuries they accumulated through work or fighting or a combination of the two, so Nux got that and some cotton balls out. He straightened and nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught a glimpse of Slit, standing in the dark hallway, out of the corner of his eye. "Holy shit, man. Don't scare me like that," Nux muttered, soaking the cotton with the alcohol and rubbing it over the cut on his forehead.  
  
"Do you really need to do that?" Slit asked reproachfully, tilting his head at the bottle of alcohol to indicate it. Which meant he felt bad. It meant he hadn't intended on being that rough. Nux could understand him.  
  
"The garage floor is disgusting," Nux pointed out. "It's not...that bad of a cut. I just don't want it infected," he explained, leaning close to the mirror to see if any more dirt was in it. Slit grabbed his arm (his unhurt arm, Nux was thankful for that) and pulled him away from the mirror.  
  
"Lemme see," he grunted, grabbing Nux's jaw and tilting his head to the side a little. "It's fine. You got everything," he confirmed after looking carefully. His grip on Nux's jaw loosened, he didn't stop Nux from turning his head to look at him, but his hand didn't drop. "Don't be a fuckstick," he finally managed.  
  
Nux shrugged. "No promises," he grinned, and laughed when Slit playfully pushed his head away.  
  
"I forgot to tell you, Immortan wants to see you tomorrow. He's coming to the shop," Slit said, turning back out to the hallway and flipping the light in the bathroom off, indicating Nux to follow him.  
  
"Me? Why's he want to see me?" Nux asked, following Slit into the living room. Slit grabbed the cheap wood table in front of the couch that they used as a dinner table and flipped it upright--so that was what all that noise was--then sat down on the couch.  
  
"Beats me. But you gotta be there at two," Slit replied, putting his boots up on the table and flipping on the TV.  
  
Nux pushed a breath out through his teeth and rubbed his hand over his head. He'd have to shave again in the morning. Capable never let him shave when he was at her house. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't trust him with a razor, or if she didn't like him keeping up his War Boy appearance. Why she even tried was beyond him; they both knew he'd go back home to Immortan as soon as he could. All the other social workers had already given up.  
  
After a moment he turned to go into the kitchen, and got the bottle of whiskey Slit kept in the top cupboard. He got out the bread and Vegemite and made a sandwich, then returned to the living room, not bothering to get a glass for the whiskey. He took a drink from the bottle as he sat, fighting a cringe when it burned down his throat, and fell onto the couch next to Slit. When he was halfway done with his sandwich, Slit leaned over to try and grab it from him. Nux pulled it away with a scoff. "Bugger off," he grunted around his mouthful. "You didn't even let me have a meat pie," he added, still fighting off Slit's attempts on his food.  
  
The ensuing scuffle was mild, and Nux managed to bite off another big chunk of the sandwich in the middle of it, as Slit hauled him back from where he'd scrambled onto the arm of the sofa to stay out of reach. He twisted to face Slit and ended up on top of him when he shifted his weight and put Slit off balance. Slit fell back, laying on the couch, and Nux quickly climbed on top of him, pinning his arms with his knees. He grinned and looked down at a glaring Slit as he stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Slit could probably throw Nux off of him, but he didn't. Instead, he wriggled up, and Nux let him free his arms now that there was no sandwich left to steal. Just as Nux swallowed, Slit reached up to grab the back of his neck and pulled him down to a rough kiss. Nux returned it enthusiastically, more tongue and teeth than anything, and ground his hips down, earning a rumbling growl from Slit.  
  
"Slag," he muttered against Nux's lips, and Nux dug his nails into Slit's side in retaliation. Slit bucked his hips up and Nux gasped, already almost fully hard--that was a teenage libido for you. He dropped his hand to yank at Slit's belt, his focus divided between getting the belt undone and biting a mark onto Slit's collarbone. Both those trains of thought were derailed when Slit shifted and pushed his thigh up between Nux's legs, rubbing maddeningly against his hardness through the fabric of his pants. An involuntary moan escaped him and he ignored Slit's laugh in favor of shoving his hand into the other's pants to grasp his cock and pull it out, giving it a long stroke.  
  
"Not laughin' now," Nux said with a smirk of his own.  
  
"You talk too much," Slit informed him, although he was, indeed, no longer laughing, too preoccupied now with trying to work open Nux's belts. It was never as straightforward as it sounded--every time he so much as brushed against Nux's clothed dick the kid would jerk like he'd been electrocuted, trying to grind down into the friction. Finally he managed to get them loose, and shoved the other's pants down enough to free his cock. Nux was already a panting mess, scratching at Slit's chest hard enough to draw blood--Slit was almost sure he could still get Nux to come in his pants, if he tried.  
  
But Slit needed more than a messy handjob to get off. He pushed Nux away, and when Nux looked at him quizzically, Slit grunted and put a hand on his shoulder to shoved him down. Nux got the idea and shuffled backwards on the couch until he could lean over and take the head of Slit's cock into his mouth. He grasped the base and bobbed his head once, experimentally, then again, taking a little more.  
  
Slit groaned and curled his hand around the back of Nux's head, guiding him to a little faster pace. Nux looked up and a shock of excitement went up his spine as Slit looked at those ocean blue eyes staring at him. Nux had beautiful eyes.  
  
The thought made him panic a little, and his hand tightened on the back of Nux's head, pushing it down. He knew Nux couldn't take his full length, but Slit wanted to hear him gag. Sure enough, as soon as Slit forced him all the way down, Nux screwed his eyes shut as he choked, reflexively grabbing at Slit's hip. Slit let up a little, only to force Nux's head down again, bringing his hips up a little this time. He groaned, and his head fell back against the arm of the couch as he thrust up into the velvet heat of Nux's mouth, shuddering at the feel of the other's throat contracting around the head of his cock. Just as he was about to come, he let go of Nux's head.  
  
As soon as Slit released him, Nux pulled away, coughing, but Slit quickly distracted him, leaning up to bite, then lick at Nux's neck. He reached down and grasped Nux's cock, still hard, to stroke it, and when Nux finally stopped coughing, Slit laid back again, this time dragging Nux with him. Nux straddled his hips and ground down clumsily. He pressed his forehead into Slit's shoulder, panting and moaning as he rutted eagerly against his hip.  
  
It didn't take him long, and when he came he bit down on Slit's shoulder to muffle his cry, earning a low groan from the other. He collapsed against Slit's chest, still panting softly, and didn't open his eyes until he felt Slit grab his hand and wrap it around his own cock, still hard and slick from Nux's saliva. Nux grasped it and jacked him, grumbling in unimpassioned protest when Slit slid his hands down the back of Nux's pants to grab at his ass, squeezing hard and sending an aftershock of pleasure straight to Nux's groin. If he hadn't just come...  
  
Slit growled and jerked his hips up into Nux's hand as he came--Nux was pretty sure he left hand-shaped bruises on his ass. He shifted to wipe his hand off on Slit's black pants, grinning at him when Slit glared. But Slit was too tired to do anything about it.  
  
Nux sat up and reached over to grab the bottle of whiskey still on the table. He took a drink, swished it around his mouth a little to get the musky taste out, and swallowed, then handed it to Slit when he grabbed for it. He laid back down--the couch was small for two people to lay on, but Nux was halfway on top of Slit, and it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.  
  
"You have gotta get up," Slit announced after a moment.  
  
"We could sleep here," Nux pointed out, already half asleep. "I'm comfortable."  
  
"Yeah, and you're bony, too. Off'a me," Slit sat up, practically dumping Nux off of him, and Nux laughed and resettled on the couch. Most nights, that was where he slept--it was a one-bedroom duplex, and unless it was winter, or they passed out on the bed after a round of drunk (and occasionally sober) sex, neither were particularly interested in sleeping in the same bed. The TV was still on, so when Slit went into his bedroom, Nux picked up the remote and flipped the channel, then stood up to kick his pants off. He folded them haphazardly and threw them on the floor, then got a blanket from the hall closet and tossed it to the couch. It was already three in the morning; he'd have to leave by one the next day if he wanted to get to the shop on time. And he did want to do that; Immortan wouldn't take being blown off lightly.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone said something about Vegemite. I looked it up. Expect rather belligerent Vegemite references from here on out because the fact Australians make it into a drink is weirdly fascinating to me.
> 
> I put the domestic violence tag because I feel like the scene in this could be construed as domestic violence. You could argue it's canon-typical but I really don't want anyone to get squicked out unexpectedly. Totally not cool. 
> 
> Also, although Nux is under 18, the legal age for consent in Australia is 16 except for anal sex, for which the age of consent is 18. So this is not considered "underage" sex. There will be underage anal sex later on in the story, just so you know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. I wanted to slow down a little, I felt like my own stories was getting away from me, and work was a little busy. I hope you like this chapter, I tried to think it out a little better than the other ones.
> 
> I'm hoping to do weekly updates now. With luck, the next chapter will be up by the end of next weekend, if not earlier.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"I can't believe it! And all because your dumb arse got arrested," Slit crowed, bent over the sawed-off shotgun where he sat on the steps into the house.  
  
"Well," Nux grunted from under the Toyota Supra they'd brought home that day, "If you hadn't run like a bitch, I wouldn'ta got taken in. So thanks, dick," he said good-naturedly.   
  
They were both in good spirits since the news they'd received earlier that day, when Immortan Joe himself had talked to Nux. Slit had been sour about it all day until he'd found out that the privilege extended to him, too.   
  
Both War Boys had been assigned a special mission. It was a strange one, but Immortan Joe had stressed the importance of it, and it gave them a rare opportunity to distinguish themselves. But only if they succeeded. And both were determined to succeed.  
  
In preparation, they were given the Toyota, which Nux was working on--a fast car, but it still needed some modifications--and a small arsenal of new guns, as well as a week or so to get everything in order. It was mostly the car that would take time, but Nux wasn't worried about meeting the timeline.   
  
"No problem," Slit said casually, and Nux glanced over to see Slit's feet (the only part of Slit he could see) walking towards the front of the car, where Nux's legs were splayed out. "Know what I think?" he said as Nux looked back up at his work.  
  
"You think?" he quipped, most of his concentration on the car.  
  
Until he felt a hand grab his pants just above his knee and drag him across the smooth concrete garage floor, wrench still in hand, and he was glowering up at Slit. "The fuck was that for? I was doing something," he snapped.  
  
Slit, kneeling beside him, grinned and thumbed his switchblade to flick it open. "I think you deserve another," he said, pointing the tip of the knife at Nux's face.  
  
Nux started to sit up, but Slit planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back again. "Where?" he asked as Slit shifted to straddle his hips. Scars were usually something they did for big events--his lips, Nux had done when he became a real War Boy and not just a Pup and the V8 on his chest was when he was designated as a black thumb. Slit was right, this was definitely a big event, and although scars were a point of pride to all War Boys, that didn't it didn't hurt like a bitch to get them.  
  
"On your face. I got an idea to help your look," Slit said, leaning over as he spoke. He put his hand on Nux's forehead and turned his head so his right cheek was pressed to the floor. "Hold still."  
  
As if he needed that advice. Nux pressed his head hard against the floor and screwed his eyes shut as Slit, without ceremony, cut into the side of his face. The gash Slit drew out started close to his ear, dipped down just underneath his cheekbone, and stopped just where his cheekbone did--a blessedly small one. The V8 had taken hours upon painful hours--the Organic, who did all the big scars and most of their slipshod medical care, had had to have other War Boys hold Nux down to keep him from struggling. And they'd done it all in one sitting. Nux had been dizzy from blood loss for days, but Organic hadn't killed him yet, so Nux figured it was alright.   
  
Next, Slit turned his face forward, and made a small but vicious cut over the bridge of his nose. Nux, surprised, cursed loudly, and Slit cackled and smacked the yet uncut side of his face. Nux growled, but let Slit turn his head again, and do the other cheek. He had two handfuls of Slit's pants by now, his white-knuckled, shaking grip the only thing keeping him from squirming and messing up the whole job.  
  
Finally satisfied, Slit let him go and sat up straight, gripping Nux's jaw to turn his face forward and appraise his work. He hummed as Nux opened his eyes and then grinned and nodded. "Looks chrome," he said. It was hard to really tell, now, what with all the blood, but he was sure it would turn out.  
  
Nux huffed a little laugh. "Thanks," he muttered. He tried to make it sound sarcastic, but it came out bashful. He squirmed and disentangled his hands from Slit's pants, pushing him away. "Now get off'a me, I got work to do," he said, twisting away.  
  
"Yes, sir," Slit scoffed, but moved to get off of him anyway. "You should clean that up before you give someone AIDS," he pointed out, wiping his blade off with a rag he picked up from the hood of the car.  
  
Nux narrowed his eyes and flipped Slit off, but wiped his hands off on his pants and stood up. Slit was right. He didn't need an infection right now.  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Sure. He seems...nice."  
  
"I'm not going to force you to get one. But I'm going to hand you cats until you find one you like."  
  
Max grunted in response and gave the kitten back to Angharad. It wasn't that he didn't like any of them. They seemed like fine cats. He just wasn't sure about the whole taking them home thing.  
  
"Well that was all the kittens," she sighed, resting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the cages. "I thought you'd want a younger one, but you're just being difficult. Here. Try her," she said, opening one of the cages. She pulled out a reluctant, shabby black cat. "No one will adopt her because of the whole...black cats are bad luck stigma," she explained, holding the cat out. Her tail flicked back in forth in irritation and Max could swear she was glaring at him.  
  
He reached out and took her carefully. But not carefully enough--as soon as Angharad let go, the cat writhed and batted, claws extended, at Max's arm. Max winced, but pulled her away when Angharad reached out to take her back. "No," he said. "I think I like this one."  
  
Angharad stared at him flatly, then turned to shut the cage.  
  
She'd picked him up that morning, without prior warning, and brought him to the pound. Max was still a little wary of pet ownership, but she insisted it would be "good for him," whatever that meant. They'd looked at the dogs a little, but Max quickly decided that a cat would be a better option. The cat continued to struggle until Angharad got a carrying cage and he was able to put her down. He had to sign some kind of paperwork, and then Angharad picked up her boy from where he was playing in the corner with some building blocks and they were on their way.  
  
The kid was going on to his second birthday soon, Max estimated--he had transferred to this station just before his first birthday, and that was almost a year ago. Angharad was single, and Max understood that the father wasn't in the picture, but that was about the extent of his knowledge on the matter, and that had all been picked up here and there from observation and various conversations. Unless Angharad wanted to talk to him about it, he figured it wasn't his business. She seemed happy--practically radiant, actually, though quietly so--and so Max never worried about it. He was a sweet kid, hardly ever cried, so Max didn't understand why Dag sometimes referred to him as the little warlord. Some kind of inside joke, he supposed. Angharad didn't appreciate the nickname.  
  
Max settled in the front seat of the car and set the carrying cage on his lap as Angharad buckled Pax into his carseat. Once she got in and pulled away from the curb, Max cast her a glance. "Ever find a place for that kid?" he asked after a moment of silence.  
  
"What kid?" Angharad asked, keeping her eyes on the road. Max didn't often like being a passenger in a car, but Angharad's driving was simply above reproach.   
  
"Nux. He was at Capable's last week," Max detailed.  
  
Angharad gave a scoff bordering on disgust. "No. He left."  
  
"He <i>left?</i>" Max repeated.  
  
"He left," Angharad affirmed patiently. "The first night."  
  
"Did Capable report it?"  
  
Angharad sighed and checked her sideview mirror. "No. He does that every time. We don't need to do a manhunt every time he goes back with the other War Boys."  
  
"The fuck's a War Boy?"  
  
Angharad looked away from the road long enough to cast him a withering glare and Max frowned, glancing back at Pax. Out cold. "It's what they call themselves. Joe's gang."  
  
"Is that what all the...chalk, and the scars and everything was about?"  
  
"Yes. The scars are...a sort of rite of passage," she explained.  
  
Max looked at the scars on Angharad's face. They didn't look accidental, but he didn't ask about it.  
  
They pulled up to Max's house just then, and that line of conversation was at an end. He'd thought a little bit about Nux since he'd met him last week, had even looked up his name out of curiosity. It was a strange name, Latin, Nux had told him. The definition seemed silly, a nut or a rind, until he'd seen the figurative translation. <i>A thing of no value.</i> Max wondered if it was a name the kid had picked himself, or if someone had given it to him.  
  
Angharad came with him into the house, and handed Pax to him after he'd set the carrying cage down and opened the door. He kept an eye on the cat as she crept out of the cage, casting suspicious glances around the room, but most of his attention was on Pax while he told Max in broken sentences about his action figure. Max nodded along and interjected gamely, but the kid liked to talk, so he mostly let Pax chatter. Sprog would have been about a year older than Pax, if he was still alive. Max didn't often let himself think about his son, it was easier not to, but for some reason seeing Pax made the memories a little more bearable. It made him think about the good things. How much he'd loved, how much he still loved Sprog, instead of just how much he missed him, and Jessie for that matter.  
  
"You'll need to go out and get more litter and more food pretty soon, but this should tide you over for a couple days," Angharad was saying as she came back into the house with two small bags of cat food and litter in a litter box, and set them down. "You could probably just feed her out of a bowl, but I recommend getting some actual cat food bowls at some point. So she knows what's hers and what's yours," she continued, walking over to take Pax back. She smiled wryly at him. "Are you going to be alright if I leave you alone with her?" she teased.  
  
Max grunted in acknowledgement and gave a little nod.  
  
Angharad nodded, unfazed by Max's reticence. "What are you going to name her?" she asked, looking down at the cat as she sniffed around the immediate area of the carrying cage.  
  
Max shrugged. "Cat?" he suggested, looking over at Angharad.  
  
Angharad raised her eyebrow. "Well, good luck. Toast's house next Wednesday, don't forget," she said, turning towards the door. "Say bye, Pax!" she prompted.  
  
Pax vaguely waved his toy and turned to watch the cat as Angharad walked out the door.  
  
Max followed her to the door and waved as she backed up and turned the car around to get back to the highway. He shut the front door and turned around. The cat, sitting down next to the couch, stared at him. Max crossed his arms over his chest and stared back.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Her house was a strategic nightmare. It was basically in the middle of everything--in the downtown area in a quiet neighborhood. They couldn't even take the loud, modified Supra with its shiny new V8 engine into the area without being noticed--they'd had to take a piece of shit Civic down the streets just to scout out the are.  
  
Not to mention, War Boys weren't trained in the art of covert operations. They were loud, and violent. Kidnapping wasn't their forte.  
  
But that was the mission assigned to them, and if they couldn't do it quietly, they'd find another way.   
  
Fortunately, one thing Nux knew how to do was tail a car. They followed the innocuous silver Acura all day from a distance. She went out to a house and picked someone up--Nux didn't recognize him as the man from Capable's house until they pulled up to the pound and Max, Angharad and Joe's son went in. That was the first time either Slit or Nux had caught a decent look at Immortan's wife and son. Unsurprisingly, she was gorgeous, not that they would say that. That would be paramount to heresy, coveting something that belonged to Immortan Joe. They'd be shredded.  
  
From the pound, it was straight back to what Nux presumed was Max's house, and he filed that away in his mind for later use. Knowing where a blue heeler lived was valuable information. They were out of town, but it was still light outside, so he ignored Slit's goading in favor of following Angharad back into town--there were too many other cars on the road, and if they went for it now, the emergency response would be too fast. They had a short bicker over the virtue of patience wherein Nux told Slit he was an impatient fuckstick and Slit retorted that Nux wouldn't know a good opportunity if it pissed on him. But Nux was the driver, so Slit eventually resigned himself to a sulky silence for a few hours as Nux followed the Acura around the city.   
  
Indeed, it was only by a stroke of luck that, just as the day was coming to an end and Nux was growing worried that they wouldn't get their chance that day, Angharad's car started on the highway out of town to Capable's house. Nux took the Supra off the road a distance away, parking it in the same grove of trees Slit had found about a week ago, and watched Angharad turn into Capable's driveway.  
  
For all Nux's talk of patience, he was no less anxious than Slit. After twenty minutes of waiting, he jumped out of the car and popped the hood on the Supra, just to give him something to do with his hands.   
  
A few hours, and only one scuffle later, the sun was down and it was well into night. They saw a pair of headlights turn on, and without a word between them, both War Boys jumped into the car and Nux fired it up. He pulled up next to the highway, his headlights off, and waited until the Acura passed before gunning the engine and following out onto the road.  
  
They'd already discussed the plan, and nerves had both boys on edge and unusually quiet. Nux kept the headlights off and floored the pedal to catch up--not a hard thing with a turbo-charged V8 engine of Nux's own design. He turned on the brights as they got close, then got into the opposite lane. On a Thursday night, there wasn't much traffic out at this hour. He pulled up alongside the Acura, and slowed when Angharad slowed. Slit's window was already open, and Nux drifted as close to the other car as he dared without hitting it--Immortan had been very clear that Angharad and his son weren't to be hurt.   
  
Slit climbed halfway out his window and smashed in Angharad's window with the crowbar they'd gotten out from the trunk. He reached in, fighting Angharad for the wheel, but the Acura swerved right. Nux tried to follow, but he wasn't fast enough--both arms in the Acura, Slit's legs were yanked along with the rest of him out of the Supra, and he hit the pavement between the cars with a horrible scream. Nux cursed and gunned the engine again, aiming to get in front of Angharad, but the Acura sped up just as he was about to get back into the right lane. The front of the Acura got in the way of the back half of the Supra, and with an awful metallic crunch, the Acura jerked right and flipped as Nux's car spun out of control.  
  
Nux woke up staring at a wall of weeds and dirt. He blinked sluggishly and looked around, confused. Shaking, he fumbled to unclip his seatbelt and spill out of the car. He found himself in a ditch. His ears were ringing, his head hurt, and it took all he had to get control of his limbs. He blinked again to try and focus his vision, and caught sight of a bright light to his right. Clumsily, he climbed over the hood of the Supra to stumble over to the light--the Acura. It was in the same ditch, about thirty meters away. One headlight was smashed out, and it was on its back, wheels in the air. Nux didn't get closer. He reeled back, felt bile rise up in his throat. How did it go so wrong? Where was Slit?  
  
Just when he thought he was going to throw up, the sound of sirens brought him back to reality. He turned back to the Supra, but one look at the car told him it wasn't going anywhere. The nose was smashed in, and the ditch was too steep to back out of, even for the power of a V8. He didn't think. He ran.  
  



	5. Taking in a Stray

Max and Furiosa, standing side by side, stared at the wreckage in front of them. The door had been pried opened with the jaws of life, and wasn't _that_  a name for a piece of equipment, but otherwise it was untouched. The driver of the Supra was gone by the time the first responders, including himself and Furiosa, had gotten there, and in the scramble to get the woman and child out of the car (he couldn't put names to them, not right now while their status was still so uncertain) they hadn't gotten to do a timely scan of the area. Once they had, all they'd found was some shredded clothing and a bloodstain on the road a few hundred meters back. Which meant someone else had been in the Supra, as well.  
  
Maybe he was as paranoid as everyone thought he was, but this hardly seemed like an accident to Max. But who the hell would want to do this to Angharad?  
  
"We need to go to the hospital," Furiosa finally spoke. EMT had left a few minutes ago, and more officers were pulling up to help control the crash site and keep other vehicles out of the way. Not that there were many at this hour.  
  
"Furiosa--" Max began, only a little apologetic. This wasn't a time to get emotional--EMT could handle it, they'd only get in the way. He wanted to know how Angharad and Pax were doing too, but they were still on the job.  
  
"No," Furiosa stopped him short, and when she looked at him there was a hardness in her eyes. "She's not safe."  
  
Max sighed and stared back at her for a moment. Then, he gave a single nod and went to start up the car as Furiosa spoke a brief word to the officers coming onto the scene. He didn't know exactly what was going, but Max trusted Furiosa. She wasn't the type to let her emotions run away with her, so if she said they needed to go to the hospital, she must have a good reason.  
  
Everything seemed fine (as fine went) when they stepped into the ER. There were a few patients sitting in the waiting room, nursing broken bones and drunken accidents, but it was relatively quiet that night. He glanced at Furiosa skeptically as she led the charge to the reception desk. Quietly, with all her usual calm, she explained she was Angharad's next of kin (which was news to Max) and asked to be alerted if there was any news. Max shifted on his feet uncertainly. This was looking more and more like a personal errand, and he didn't like it. They could be out there looking for whoever did this.  
  
But Furiosa was his partner, and she'd earned his trust a long time ago. So he stuck around for the next hour or so, standing at the glass doors with Furiosa although he wasn't sure what to be looking for, until a doctor came out to the waiting room and asked for Furiosa. She stepped over and the two talked in low voices as Max looked around again.  
  
Just as he was about to turn away from the door and ask Furiosa if they were good to get back to work, something out of place made him stop. At first, he couldn't tell exactly what bothered him--he could see the two men hurrying towards the ER from a distance. That wasn't unusual. Plenty of people who came to the ER were in a hurry. He couldn't put his finger on it until they were closer, and he could see their faces. And they were livid. Neither appeared to be hurt. Furiosa's words rang in his head.  _"SShe's not safe."_

  
"Hey. Furiosa," he barked, not taking his eyes off the men. Two guys looking pissed off wasn't enough reason to keep them from coming in, but Furiosa seemed to be a subject matter expert on Angharad's situation; maybe she would know.  
  
Furiosa turned at her name and muttered something terribly unprofessional as she rushed over to the door, ostensibly to stop the men from entering. Max followed her, vaguely irritated that no one had yet explained to him what was going on. Unfortunately, by the time they reached the glass double doors, so had the two men, and they didn't appear to be prepared to stop when Furiosa and Max blocked their way. Max found himself looking up at the monster of the man in front of him. Not only was he tall, he was built like a brick house.  
  
The other man was slightly less impressive, although the two had some resemblance, in expression and build if not in height. Father and son, if Max had to guess--the older man had long white hair, looked to be in his mid-sixties. Furiosa faced him, her feet planted apart and her eyes narrow. "You know you can't come in here, Joe," she said coldly.  
  
Joe. Why did he feel like he should know that name?  
  
"Let me see my son!" Joe thundered in response. He had a strong voice, but there was a rasp in his words that made him sound sick, asthmatic.  
  
"Come one step further and I'll throw you in prison for violating the restraining order," Furiosa threatened.  
  
Joe stepped forward, too close to Furiosa for Max's comfort. But as soon as he moved to get between them, a huge hand reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back. Max stumbled only a little, then planted one foot behind him and reached out his left hand as his right hand found the grip of his pistol. But Joe was already pushing past Furiosa with his big, dumb lackey's help, and the gun was a bluff. There were too many people too close. Taking out a gun before it was absolutely necessary would only cause panic.  
  
Thankfully, the nurses had gotten the hint and already locked the doors to the hallway that led to the operation rooms. That didn't stop Joe from making a scene, though. "Let me in! I want to see my son!" he shouted, grabbing the door handle and apparently trying to wrench it from the frame. His friend had a little more luck--the metal bent under his huge hands, but the locks still didn't give.  
  
"You're not going to see them, Joe. Get out of here," Furiosa ordered, watching him shrewdly. She didn't get too close, but she didn't make a move to try and restrain him either. Max followed her lead, if a little more suspiciously. Why weren't they just arresting these two deros?  
  
After shouting at the doors to the doctors he apparently thought were cowering in fear on the other side, Joe rounded on Furiosa and Max's adrenaline ratcheted up another level as he geared up for a fight.  
  
"I'm coming for him, Furiosa. I will get my son back!" he hissed. All Max's excitement was for nothing, because as soon as he was finished with his threats, Joe stormed back out the door with his henchman on his heels. The doors slammed shut with unnecessary force and Max turned to Furiosa.  
  
"What the hell was that? We should have taken him in!" he growled, mindful of the eyes and ears of the other patients in the waiting room on them. They didn't need to hear this.  
  
"He was waiting for that. He's got other War Boys out there with him, and believe me, they'd win in a gun fight," Furiosa muttered back, watching the two men stalk out to the parking lot.  
  
"War Boys?" Max repeated. Angharad had told him about them. But neither of the men had had white chalk or intentional scars (that he could see) or any of that crazy shit.  
  
Furiosa gave a single nod. "He's their...leader. Calls himself Immortan Joe," she explained.  
  
Max stared at her flatly. "What's he want with Angharad?" he asked, although he already had a pretty good idea.  
  
For the first time since he'd met her, Max saw indecision flicker in Furiosa's eyes. "She was his wife."  
  
Max thought his eyebrows touched his hairline. "Wife?" he repeated.  
  
Furiosa nodded. "Pax is his son."  
  
With a sigh, Max reached up and rubbed his eyes. How did Angharad get herself into that? "Pax ain't very old," he muttered into his hand, more to himself.  
  
"She and the other girls got away about a year ago," Furiosa replied.  
  
Max looked up. "The other girls?"  
  
"Toast, Capable, Cheedo, Dag. All of them. And me," Furiosa explained.  
  
" _You_? You were--"  
  
"No, I was one of his War Boys."  
  
Max raised an eyebrow.  
  
"There are girl War Boys. That's just the name of their gang," Furiosa said irritably.  
  
"The other girls were his wives, or that's what he called them. He was only ever legally married to Angharad."  
  
"And they never found it strange that he had more than one wife?" Somehow, Max didn't think any man could keep five women from knowing about each other.  
  
"Rockatansky, we should talk about this--"  
  
"Hell no. We're talking about this right now."  
  
Furiosa sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, looking around the waiting room as though it would give her answers. "Listen, Max, Joe had us convinced of a lot crazier shit than polygamy. We call the War Boys a gang because of their activities, but they're...they're more like a cult. They practically worship Joe. They'll do anything he asks."  
  
Max shook his head and looked out the windows at the parking lot. It seemed quiet. He hoped it would stay that way. "But you got out."  
  
Furiosa nodded. "I narked for a while, then I took a deal with the force and took the girls with me when I left. They were all so young when he got a hold of them, only Angharad had ever thought of what a life without him would be like," she continued, keeping her voice low still.  
  
Max was silent for a few long moments. "Well," he finally said, shifting his weight to his good leg. "Then I guess we'll be here a while."  
  
Furiosa glanced at him and a smile flickered over her lips, then she nodded.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Max stayed at the hospital for the rest of his shift, until Toast and her partner came to relieve him and Furiosa. Furiosa changed into civilian clothes and went right back--he only knew because she'd texted him to let him know where she was. Max didn't argue with her. She should get some rest, but he knew how hard-headed she was, and she had some considerable stamina.  
  
Angharad and Pax had been moved to ICU units, but the doctors said it didn't look good, for either of them, but Pax had a better chance. He'd explained what had happened, but Max had tuned out. He didn't need more deaths to replay in his head, he had enough of those.  
  
The other girls had come in, one by one, after Furiosa had let them know what happened. Cheedo was the most visibly broken up, but Max knew the others were just as upset. Furiosa had a certain command over the group, and yet they seemed to think of Angharad as a mother figure.  
  
When he got home, Max pet the cat and fed her, then tried, for a few minutes, to tempt her onto his lap. She'd laid on him a little while earlier in the day, but now she seemed restless. She kept going to the back door and meowing, and finally he gave up. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, stripped down to his boxers, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
It was only a few hours later, still dark outside in the early morning hours, when a crash woke him up. His eyes snapped open, but he lay frozen and silent for a moment, listening, his senses on high alert. There was no more sound, but he was sure he'd heard it. Slowly, quietly, he reached into his bedside table and took out his Glock 17. He'd joined a shooting team to give a genuine need for the license, but he hardly went to competitions. He paid the fee and went a few times a year, just to make sure he was still a decent shot under pressure. And he was, always. But he kept it for times like these, and only locked it up when he left the house.  
  
Quietly, he crept down the stairs, keeping his gun up and an eye out for any movement. The staircase gave him a good vantage point into both the kitchen and the living room, but he saw nothing. He searched every room, and it was only when he lowered the gun and took a better look around the empty kitchen that he saw one of his mugs smashed on the floor. He frowned. It was the damn cat, probably pushed it right off. He set the Glock down and rubbed his eyes, then went about cleaning up the mess.  
  
"Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear," he muttered when the cat came to investigate what he was doing. He threw away the ceramic pieces and leaned down to pet the cat anyway. "You're trouble," he told it sternly. The cat tolerated the petting for a moment, then wriggled away from him and took off down the hall at break-neck speed. She ran through the lower level a couple times like that, then up the stairs, then back down. Meanwhile, Max got another mug down and started some coffee as he wondered if this was normal behavior for a cat.  
  
She settled down by the time Max had sat down at the dining table and was sipping on his coffee. For a few minutes, anyway. Just when the coffee cooled from scalding to bearably burning, he heard hissing from the back door.  
  
Max grunted and got up to look. It was probably a stray he'd have to scare off. Cat didn't like strays.  
  
"What are you doing over here?" he muttered, crouching down beside cat and looking around at his back porch. Nothing. "Be quiet, crazy," he chided gently, scrubbing the cat's head then standing to go back to the table.  
  
He finished his coffee as the cat continued to act spastic, and he sincerely hoped this wasn't going to be a common thing. He was tired, but after the intruder scare he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. At least since was up before the goddamn sun, he could spend a little time working on his Oldsmobile. His attempts to get the 442 working were half-assed, at best. It was something to do when he was lonely and bored, though, and it had enough problems to keep his mind off of his own.  
  
Once he'd washed out the mug, he locked up the Glock (he only kept it out when he slept or hung around in the house) and headed outside. The sky was just beginning to turn light, so when he got into the shed he pulled the string to turn on the bare bulb that hung from the middle of the ceiling. It wasn't the best lighting, but it was enough to see by.  
  
Just as he'd started tinkering with a loose belt, a scuffling noise startled him and he straightened up, looking around. He'd made sure to shut the door to the house, so it couldn't be the cat. He grabbed a wrench and stepped around the side of the car--sometimes a wallaroo or a possum would wander into the shed, and those fuckers could get big, and were mean if they felt cornered.  
  
What he didn't expect to see was a boot sticking out from underneath his half-folded tarp. Or the tarp moving.  
  
Gripping the wrench tightly, Max silently stepped closer and leaned down. He raised the tool up  a little, prepared to lash out, then snatched the top of the tarp away.  
  
Nux blinked up at him, his hands raised as though he expected Max to bring the wrench down on him.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Max snapped, not lowering the tool.  
  
Nux scrabbled to a sitting position, scooting backwards away from Max until his back hit the wall. Max let him--he couldn't see any weapons, and Nux looked scared out of his mind. Good. Teach him not to sneak onto other people's property. Not to mention, the kid looked like he'd had the shit kicked out of him. Dried blood on his forehead, two long gashes on his cheeks that hadn't been there before, and bruises and cuts all over the rest of him. But still, Max waited for an explanation.  
  
"I...I...wanted to know--if Angharad is okay," he stammered finally.  
  
Max paused, confused, and stared at Nux blankly. That was not at all what he'd expected to hear. And how did Nux know about Angharad?  
  
All at once, it came together. In a blind rage, he struck out with the wrench. Nux managed to get an arm up to block the brunt of it, but by the sound of his yelp, it connected with something painful. Nux tried to lunge to his left, but Max caught his arm with his free hand and dragged him back. "Give me one reason not to kill you right now," he snarled, his voice low.  
  
"It was an accident! That wasn't supposed to happen, I didn't mean to hurt them!" Nux deplored. He tried to yank his arm away, but Max's grip tightened.  
  
And yet, he couldn't find it in himself to bring the wrench down again, as tempting as it was. He was still livid, of course, but beating a defenseless kid with a crescent wrench wasn't his idea of fair. He almost regretted the first time he'd done it. Instead, he growled wordlessly and hauled Nux to his feet, dragging him towards the door of the shed. "Come on. Quit it, I'm not gonna hurt you," he muttered grudgingly when Nux began to struggle again, and threw the wrench back onto the table to prove it. Miraculously, the War Boy believed him and quit fighting, though he was clearly reluctant still to follow. Regardless, Max kept his grip on Nux's forearm and led him to the house, shoved him inside through the back door.  
  
"Sit," he ordered, picking up his cell phone from the table. He flipped it open, looked at it, then closed it again and slammed his hands down on the tabletop and looked down at the wood. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked, once he trusted himself not to snap.  
  
"I wanted to know--"  
  
"About Angharad, yeah, that's not what I mean.  I mean what are you doing _here_? If you were trying to turn yourself in why didn't you go to the police station?"  
  
"No, I don't want--I don't want to go to jail!"  
  
Max looked at him flatly. "You came to a cop's house and confessed to attempted vehicular homicide. What did you think would happen? How did you even find my house?"  
  
"Angharad was here earlier," Nux explained, studying his hands on his legs.  
  
"You were _following_  us?"  
  
"No, just... her."  
   
Max sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Why?"  
  
"We were just supposed to take her back to Immortan, the crash was a mistake," Nux insisted.  
  
"We?" Max raised his eyebrow and looked at Nux, who averted his eyes. "Who's we?"  
  
Nux shook his head silently.  
  
"If you're not ready to come clean, what the hell did you want, coming here? Why didn't you just go back to your buddies?" Max snapped.  
  
It was Nux's turn to rub his face, and that had to hurt with all the injuries he had. "I can't go back. Immortan will shred me for what I did," he mumbled. "Angharad was his favorite and I--I _killed_  her, and his son. I'm done for, they're going to shred me."  
  
Max didn't know exactly what Nux meant by shred, but he could guess, and judging by the War Boys' other work, it certainly wouldn't be pretty. "She's not dead. Neither is the kid. At least, not yet. They've still got a shot, not a very good one," Max finally told him. "They're hurt. Bad. And whether you meant to do it or not, you did it. I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened, and who you were with," Max explained, as gently as he could manage.  
  
Nux was silent, hiding his face in his hands still.  
  
"I'm calling the station. Someone on duty will pick you up," Max decided, flipping open his phone.  
  
"No!"  
  
Max looked up to find Nux's wide, blue eyes on him. He snapped his phone shut and stared back expectantly.  
  
Nux took a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Max has a flip phone. He just strikes me as the "no patience for a smartphone" type.
> 
> Criticism and suggestions are the shit, my friends. Also, if anyone would like to beta read for me, that'd be great. I'm so shitty at thinking of chapter titles. Seriously, the three to five word title takes me longer to come up with than any single paragraph does to write. And I find this chapter title particularly irritating because I already named one chapter "Strays" and it bugs me that I couldn't come up with anything more original. Oh well. Hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. No Rest for the Weary

"Capable, I think I need some help here. It's Nux. No, don't say anything to the others."   
  
Max was sitting in the living room, his eyes still on the bathroom door that Nux was behind as though he thought the kid was going to make a run for it.   
  
"No, if I bring him there, Furiosa's going to do something...rash. It's a long story. Look, you're not going to be able to do anything there, we both know that. But we have a few things to sort out with Nux. I'll explain when you get here, and it would really help if you came. Okay. Thank you." He hung up just as the door opened and Nux came back out, holding his black cargo pants and wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that were both too big for him. He was about Max's height already, but he was skinny.   
  
"Who were you talking to?" Nux asked, suspicious.   
  
"Capable," Max said, setting his phone down on the table.   
  
It didn't have the desired effect. He thought Nux would have wanted Capable here, but panic crossed his face. "Capable? Why would you call her?" he demanded, shuffling his feet as though he wanted to walk somewhere but couldn't decide where to go.   
  
Max raised an eyebrow, sitting forward a little on the recliner. "Better fix your attitude before she gets here. She's gonna be the only one of the girls on your side for all this."   
  
"I don't want to tell her about all this! She's going to hate me. She’ll never want to see me again!" Nux retorted, his voice steadily rising.   
  
"Hey, enough with the yelling," Max growled. "She's on her way over. She'll have to know eventually, and you owe it to her at least to tell her yourself. Go sit down at the table," he ordered, standing up.   
  
Nux gave him a strange look but, surprisingly, obeyed, and turned to go back into the kitchen where Max's dining room table was. Max followed and put a pot full of water on the stove to boil. Once it started bubbling, he added a few spoonfuls of Vegemite, and stirred it slowly. He could feel Nux's eyes on his back, but ignored it; instead, he concentrated on pouring the drink into three mugs, and just as he turned around to take them to the table, the doorbell rang and he heard the door open. Capable, Toast and Furiosa all had keys to his house.   
  
"Nux!" Predictably, Capable went straight to the kid. She reached out and ghosted a hand over one of the scarring gashes on his cheek, and when he turned his head away to avoid her touch she frowned. "What happened to you? What are you doing here? Are you alright?"   
  
Nux nodded, uncharacteristically mute.   
  
Capable looked up at Max inquisitively, and he handed her a mug and gestured to a seat. He planted a mug in front of Nux pointedly, then sat down himself. "No bullshit. Tell her what happened," he said firmly, looking at Nux, though the boy wouldn't meet his eyes.   
  
Nux reached up to wrap his hands around the mug, staring intently at the steam rising up from the drink. He only paused a moment before he launched into the story.   
  
He said everything he'd told Max--told her about the task Joe gave him, the car and the guns, the day of stalking, the attack, the crash. Still, he wouldn't tell them who was in the car with him.   
  
"Was it Slit," Capable pressed, more a statement than a question. Nux denied it insistently, but Capable gave Max a knowing look. Well, whoever Slit was, Capable was probably right, and they'd find out soon enough. There had been blood on the road a little ways from the crash, and no body found near it. It had been sent to a lab. Max hadn't told Nux any of that.   
  
Blessedly, Capable didn't cry, although she looked close to it a few times. Max could hardly stand the sound of crying anymore. It was the last thing he'd heard from Jessie--she'd called him on the phone, crying and afraid, and when he'd rushed home, she was dead. Her and Sprog.   
  
A few long minutes of silence followed after Nux finished his tale. Nux stared resolutely into his still full, cooling cup, fidgeting frequently, and Capable cast her gaze around the room as though searching for answers to questions not yet asked. Max glanced between the two of them.   
  
It was Max who finally broke the silence. "We need to arrest Joe, and shut down the War Boys. With a witness, we have enough evidence to put him away for a long time," he said slowly. He was no lawyer, but he'd seen a few legal proceedings in his time, and he knew that much. "You'll need a lawyer. You'll have to sign some papers. But I think the state will drop charges on you if you testify."   
  
Capable and Nux spoke at the same time.   
  
"You think?" Capable.   
  
"Testify?" Nux.   
  
Max narrowed his eyes at both of them. "We don't have a lot of choices. None of us are going to harbor a fugitive, but if we take you in to the station with a plan it's going to work out. Trust me. All you have to do is demand a lawyer be assigned to your case, and don't speak to any interrogators until you've gotten one. You'll be placed in witness protection until Joe's arrest and the trial. I can keep you here. You haven't got anywhere else to go, and that way they can be assured you won't disappear before the trial starts. No one else knows you came here, right?"   
  
Nux shook his head, but he still looked skeptical. Then, suddenly, he jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over, and pointed at Max. "You're lying! You're lying so I'll go with you, you'll never arrest the Immortan! You're going to throw me in prison to rot!" he screamed.   
  
Instincts kicked in, and Max had stood as soon as Nux had, adrenaline pumping. But when Nux tried to get around the other side of the table, Capable stood in his way. She was shorter than him by a couple inches, but the way he stopped you'd think Nux had run into a brick wall. Capable put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Nux, do you trust me?" she said softly.   
  
Nux shuffled his feet, looked ready to take off, but then nodded, his eyes flickering around the room then back to Capable.   
  
Capable nodded a little and rubbed his arm. "Okay. I trust Max. He's only trying to help you, okay? Just like me. We just want to help," she murmured.   
  
Her words had a visible effect on Nux. It was like watching a lion-tamer. He calmed, quit his twitching and shuffling, even went back to pick up the chair and sit down when Capable told him to. Slowly, Max took his seat as well, but just as Capable looked about to speak her phone rang. She tore it out of her pocket and answered, hardly looking to see who it was.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly. Her eyes were wide and unmoving as she listened to the other end, and Max's stomach twisted as Capable slowly sunk into her seat, looking no less anxious as the seconds stretched on. "Yeah. Bye." She hung up and put her phone down, took a shaky breath. "Pax. He, uh...he's dead."   
  
What Max liked especially about Capable was that she didn't beat around the bush. He'd heard words like passed away, moved on, departed, too much after Jessie and Sprog died. Capable's bluntness was a small comfort. He dropped his eyes to his hands and took a deep breath, let it out of his nose. When he looked up, Capable was fighting tears and Nux had his face in his hands, shaking his head.   
  
"We should get back to the hospital," Max said, standing up. He looked at Nux, considered what to do with the boy. He didn't want to bring him with them. That was the last thing Furiosa and the others, even Capable, needed. But he wasn't about to leave him here alone. What would he do if he lost it again, without Capable around to talk him down?   
  
"Can you drive?" he asked Capable.   
  
She nodded, picking up her phone and pocketing it as she stood and wiped at her eyes to clear away the tears. "Sure. Why?"   
  
"Go ahead and go over now. I'll catch up."   
  
Capable glanced uneasily at Nux, who sat at the table still, head in his hands. She hesitated, then nodded and headed for the door, pausing only once to cast a glance back at Nux before she left.   
  
"Come on," Max sighed after a moment, tapping Nux's shoulder lightly once. "I'm taking you to a friend's house."

  
  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Captain lived a little way past the hospital, and Max took the long way so they wouldn't drive on the same road. Max had worked with the Captain in his last station for a few years before the man retired, only months before Max switched stations. He wasn't a police captain--he'd earned the nickname from his service in the Royal Air Force--but he'd mentored Max a little, and Max knew he could trust him. Even better, the Captain--his real name was Gyro--didn't know Angharad or any of the women.   
  
"Well if it isn't Mad Max himself!" the Captain, sporting his signature wide grin, greeted when he answered the door.   
  
"I hate that nickname," Max grunted in response, returning the firm handshake and a quick hug.   
  
"As pleasant as always. What brings you here?" the Captain quipped, stepping aside to gesture for Max to come in. "And who's this?" he added, catching sight of Nux sulking quietly behind Max.   
  
"I can't stay long, mate. I just have a favor I need to ask. It's...a long story, but I need you to keep an eye on Nux here for a little bit. Until tonight, at the latest," Max explained, searching the Captain's face as he spoke.   
  
"Well...sure, I guess I could do that," the Captain said, a question hidden in his tone. "I know how you are with long stories, but I'm gonna want to know about this later."   
  
Max nodded. "I'll explain. If he starts to act up, call me and I'll come right over," he added.   
  
At that, a look of worry flashed across the Captain's face. "Alright," he said again, then looked at Nux. "Come on in. I was just making some breakfast, if you haven't eaten," he offered.   
  
Nux glanced at Max and reluctantly stepped over the threshold into the house, his arms crossed over his chest protectively. "S'alright, I'm not hungry," he muttered.   
  
Max thanked the Captain once more, and beat feet to the car. Morning. Only morning. He and Furiosa had responded to Angharad's wreck last night, but it felt like lifetimes ago already. But the sun was only just coming up, and the day stretched ahead of him for miles along the highway back into town.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  
He found the girls in a waiting room in the ICU area. Angharad's condition was still unstable and her chances weren't looking terribly good. They were all quiet now, resigned to waiting, all eyes except Furiosa's red and puffy. Even Toast sniffled every now and then, but Cheedo was the only one still crying over Pax, her head on Dag's shoulder and both arms wrapped around Dag's left.   
  
Max passed around the coffee he'd picked up on the way, and Furiosa thanked him quietly when he came to stand next to her, both sipping on their scalding black drinks. They drank too much coffee to take it any way but black--Furiosa always joked she'd get fat if she had any cream and sugar, even though neither of them particularly liked the bitter taste. Max couldn't imagine her fat. Furiosa was all lean muscle, and, for the first time, Max wondered if that was natural, or if she had a track record with coke like the other War Boys he'd seen. Not that it mattered anymore. Despite her past, he trusted her now. If not for her loyalty to him, then for her loyalty to the girls.   
  
The minutes passed like hours as they waited, until they became hours, with them receiving only occasional updates from doctors and nurses to break up the monotony. Always the same. Not stable yet, still keeping a close eye on her. Max wondered if they were lying. If she was getting worse. But there was nothing they could do but keep waiting.

 

A few times, some of the girls dozed in their seats. Only Max and Furiosa stayed awake through the long hours, and Max couldn't say if it was the stress or their watchdog mentality that kept them from sitting and drifting off as well. Max glanced at the clock on the wall every so often, but he could barely even tell the time. Rubbing his eyes didn't help, only made his headache worse and his eyes sore. There was no natural light. No windows in the waiting room to help tell how much time had gone by. He gave up trying to keep track.   
  
The thing was, the staff's expressions were always the same when they came out to talk quietly to Furiosa. After the first three times a doctor came out, the clenching in his chest that hinted of panic each time he saw scrubs started to fade into a constant, dull fear.   
  
So when a doctor came out at 8 o'clock, just as Max was wondering when he should go get Nux and bring him back to his house (Gyro hadn't called him all day, thank God), Max didn't feel much of anything. Until Furiosa nodded to the doctor and turned around, her eyes, for the first time, beginning to brim with moisture. She quietly cleared her throat, paused as though she didn't trust her voice, and looked at the girls, all sitting in a row on the chairs. The girls who were awake straightened expectantly, and Dag woke when Cheedo's shoulder shifted. "She's gone," Furiosa said, her voice quiet but thankfully stable.   
  
Cheedo wailed and dropped her head into her hands, and all four broke out into tears. Max cringed and looked away, but he couldn't block out the sound and he couldn't leave now.   
  
Furiosa took a deep breath and gestured for them to stand. "We can go say goodbye. But we need to be quiet," she added after a moment, casting a pointed glance to Cheedo. Dag nodded in Cheedo's stead and helped her girlfriend get to her feet, murmuring quietly to her.   
  
The doctor let two back at a time. First Furiosa and Toast, the most calm of the group not including Max, then Max went back with Capable. Angharad was pale, scars no longer standing out quite so starkly on her cheek. Max wrapped his arm around Capable's shoulders as she burst into a fresh bout of tears until she gathered up the courage to lean over and kiss Angharad's no doubt cold forehead. She murmured something that Max turned his ears off to, then Capable straightened, made a valiant attempt to wipe away tears that were still coming, and turned on her heel to leave. Max paused only to pat Angharad's hand, then followed.   
  
Last were Cheedo and Dag. Dag had to help Cheedo back as her lover choked back sobs. The rest waited for only a moment, and Max was surprised when Cheedo returned quickly, almost running through the waiting room. But Dag was fast, and she and Capable caught up to grab Cheedo, who went limp in their grasp. They lowered her cautiously to sit on her knees, only a few feet shy of the waiting room door as Cheedo sobbed. "He'll kill all of us! We'll never get away from him!"   
  
"We will! We don't belong to him, we are not things," Capable insisted.   
  
"I don't want to hear that again!" Cheedo snapped.   
  
"They were her words," Capable replied, just as forcefully.   
  
"And now she's dead!"   
  
There was a short silence, then Dag dragged Cheedo back to her feet. "Wring your hands and tear your hair, but I'm not going to let you do anything stupid," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. She and Capable, on either side of Cheedo, wrapped their arms around the woman's back and led her back into the room, where they all gathered around Furiosa as though waiting on orders.   
  
Furiosa looked around at the disheveled group and sighed. "Well, there's no use standing around here. We should all go home. I'll get the affairs in order for the funerals," she said, almost to herself.   
  
"I'll help," Capable said.   
  
"No, you just stay with them," Furiosa replied.   
  
"I can do it," Capable repeated, giving Furiosa a strange, challenging look. Furiosa paused, then nodded in agreement.   
  
When they all got outside, the four women discussing whose house to go to, apparently unwilling to part with each other, darkness had already set in. It was past nine. Max needed to pick up Nux. No one but Capable knew about Nux yet, and Max planned to keep it that way until he could get things sorted out with the kid at the station. He'd have to tell Furiosa first; she would know how to explain it to the girls and hopefully minimize the animosity they'd likely feel towards the War Boy. At least Capable seemed to be handling it with a level head.   
  
Just as Max said his goodbyes and started tiredly towards his car, Furiosa grasped his arm, stopping him. "Is there something you need to tell me?" she asked softly.   
  
Max paused and took a deep breath. "Might have found a lead on this mess," he admitted slowly. "But I need to work some things out. Get some sleep. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."   
  
Furiosa paused and searched his face for a moment, then nodded and said goodnight. Max returned to his car and started it up. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at his steering wheel before he managed to gather the strength to put his hands on it and pull out of his parking space. The long hours suddenly hit him all at once, and he was more tired than he could remember being since Jessie and Sprog died. But somehow he knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep in the coming nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to twiggzzler for being my shiny new beta reader. Literally, this chapter (and probably many of the following) wouldn't have happened without that gem. She da real MVP. 
> 
> I'd like to mention something real quick. You guys might have noticed there hasn't been a lot of talk about Valhalla and Joe being like a god, as the War Boys treat him in the movie. I thought about working that in, but since I went in more of a "gang" direction than "cult," I felt that including that would make things a little unrealistic in a modern setting. I'm sorry if that disappoints anyone, but I simply don't have the creative writing skills to work that in in a way that would feel organic to the story.


	7. Two Coffins for Sleep

The next few days passed in an exhausting blur. After Max picked Nux up from the Captain's, with relieving reports of good behavior, he went back to his house and detoured only to show Nux the spare bedroom before going immediately into a restless sleep. He woke up every half hour or so, but forced himself to stay in bed and get as much sleep as he could until morning came around.

Finally thinking a little more clearly after some rest, he was almost surprised when he checked in the spare room to see that Nux had stuck around through the night and was still sleeping soundly. He'd taken off his shirt, but not his jeans. Max wondered if he slept like that every night. The cat was curled up against his side, but she picked her head up when Max opened the door, then yawned and stood up to follow him out. Max shut the door quietly after she padded into the hallway.

Max closed the door quietly and went down the stairs, raking his fingers through his hair to try and make it settle a little as he stumbled through making a pot of coffee and feeding the cat. He stared at the perculator as it dripped into the pot, trying hard to think of nothing at all until he filled a mug up and went out to the living room. It was strange knowing someone else was in his house in the morning. He had to be quiet. When he turned on the TV, the volume was up way too loud and he had to hit the down button furiously until it wasn't blasting out of the speakers. He turned it to the news and promptly zoned out, only moving to stroke the cat's head when she settled on the arm of the couch next to him.

When he stood up to refill his mug, he caught a glimpse of a pair of boots next to his door and frowned. They looked like they'd been through hell and back, and there was no way that Nux's feet were that big. He sighed and filed that thought away for later. It was too early to think about shoe shopping.

Halfway through his second cup, Max heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. For such a skinny kid, he sure wasn't quiet. Nux looked tired when he shuffled into the living room and collapsed on the couch, sitting right next to Max even though there was plenty of space. It was a full sized couch. Max glanced at him curiously but didn't say anything, though he was startled when Nux dropped his forehead against Max's shoulder.

"Why are we awake? It's so early," Nux complained. "Oh, what's that?" he added, before Max could even answer the first question. Max only had time to look down at the mug before Nux reached out and took it from him. He took a sip and cringed, then handed it back. "Nasty." He sat up straight and looked around, apparently alert now. Max found himself glad Nux didn't like the coffee.

Capable had warned him, using hushed tones in the few minutes they'd had alone, that Nux could be a little unpredictable, but this still wasn't exactly what Max had expected. He'd gathered that the kid was excitable, could tell from the first time he'd met him with all that nervous energy even when he wasn't high. 

It was all the touching he hadn't expected. Once Max prompted Nux to get ready, the kid hardly strayed five feet from him except when he was showering. Max was cautious--he still remembered Nux's mood shift the night before, when he stood up and screamed about Max being a liar--but he paid close attention. Every time Nux needed something, he'd reach out to Max instead of saying his name. He chattered incessantly once he'd woken up all the way, but he didn't seem put off when Max answered with only grunts and nods. Max thought back to how Capable treated Nux--she was not a particularly handsy person herself, but now that he thought about it, he'd seen her give Nux more casual touches than anyone else. Even when he was agitated, she'd put her hand on his shoulder. Capable didn't do anything carelessly. She'd known Nux a long time, and obviously she'd caught on to something. Max committed that to memory.

He called Capable and asked her to meet them at the station. Nux was pulling on one of Max's shirts when he made the call, finishing getting dressed after he'd followed Max from the bedroom to the living room like a lost dog. He seemed to get more anxious after that, and Max was glad he'd made the call. The last thing he needed was for Nux to flip shit at the station. It was going to be hard enough already for him to convince them to let Nux off the hook for a testimony for a case that wasn't even in the works yet, for a criminal that hadn't even been arrested, much less charged. The whole situation was precarious, at best, but Max needed to instill confidence in Nux and Capable, not doubt. He was relying on the state prosecutor's desperation to put Joe away for good, but he wasn't actually sure they'd be willing to drop a vehicular manslaughter case that resulted in two deaths, including a child, in exchange. 

As they got into his car, Max assured Nux there was no reason to be nervous.

Capable met them at the station as promised. She hugged Nux and brushed her thumb over his scarred lips fondly, smiling bravely to him before they went in.

The three of them spent the whole day there. Once he'd gotten a lawyer, Nux repeated the story Max had given him--he'd turned himself into Max early that morning. No, he hadn't said anything to anyone else. He didn't know his companion's real name. Joe had tasked them with abducting Angharad and Pax, and it had resulted in a crash. For a state assigned attorney, he wasn't bad. Each time Nux looked like he was about to say or do something to ruin the whole thing, the lawyer called a break. 

As the afternoon wore into evening, Max grew worried they wouldn't release him. Finally, talk started about where to place him. Jail, they decided (as Max had anticipated), was too dangerous for a witness in the trial against Joe--they'd already issued the warrant for arrest. There were too many War Boys in jail too willing to protect their leader at all costs. That was when Max jumped in. Capable looked uneasy, but gave her professional opinion, as Max had instructed her to, that Nux was best off with a police officer. 

By the time they got out of the station, it was getting dark and Max felt sick. In spite of his reputation ("Mad" Max had come from somewhere, after all), he'd never pulled anything as shady as what they'd done that day. He hoped he'd made the right call with Nux, but only time would tell.

Nux and Max said their goodbye's to Capable, and she headed back to Furiosa's house, where all the girls were staying. Max didn't know how they all fit in there--she had a one-bedroom apartment--but Capable seemed eager to get back. When he and Nux had gotten back into his car, Max's phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out. Furiosa.

He flipped his phone open and steeled himself.

"I got a call. Station said they closed the case on Angharad."

"Yeah."

"They told me you brought Nux in and he's in your custody now."

"Yeah."

"You call that following a lead?"

"Yeah."

"You better be right about this, Rockatansky. Whatever he does falls on you."

"I know."

"Be careful." The line went dead and Max couldn't help a little smile. Furiosa was unlike anyone he'd ever met.

He took off the days leading up to the funeral, as did Furiosa. Occasionally Furiosa called him to help with the affairs, but Angharad apparently had most of it squared away for herself in her will. There was nothing about Pax. Max wondered if that had been wishful thinking on Angharad's part, or if she'd made the will before she'd had him. He didn't ask.

Other than that, Max mostly stayed home to keep an eye on Nux. He was reluctant to leave the kid alone, but he was equally cautious about taking him out. One day, he returned from the funeral home to find the house empty, and he nearly had a panic attack until he went out back and found Nux elbow-deep in the Oldsmobile. 

The day of the funeral, they got up early. Max had been working on adjusting Nux's sleeping pattern to a more daytime-oriented schedule, but it was hard work. Max was a night-owl as a teenager, himself, but Nux took it to another level. Left on his own, he'd go to sleep at five and not wake until evening. Max had to sit him down and explain to him why he kept waking him up at eight in the morning.

They were ready by seven, and the services started at eight. He'd found time to pick up a button-up white shirt that fit the kid, in theory, but looked wrong on him. Nux was anxious, and Max wasn't any better, though he hid it a little more effectively. Furiosa and Capable had explained everything to the others, so Nux's showing up wasn't going to be a surprise, but that didn't mean he'd be welcome. Either way, Max was determined to show them that Nux was trying to make this right. Not to mention, he wasn't ready to leave the kid alone for more than an hour, and the funeral was going to last longer than that.

Everything went smoothly at the morning wake. They held it at the funeral home, and it was a quiet affair. Some of Angharad's coworkers showed up, but as far as Max knew, he, Furiosa, Toast, Capable, Dag and Cheedo were her only family. She had never spoken about siblings or parents. None of them did.

Max kept an eye out for anyone he didn't recognize, but he could count on his hands the number of people in attendence who he didn't know. No War Boys. No Joe or any of his henchmen. It was a good start to the day.

But, of course, good times never lasted long in their world.

At ten, they left the funeral home to go to the cemetary for the final services. It was a sunny day, which Max found himself grateful for—Angharad loved sun and good weather. She liked to be outside. He almost wished the casket wasn't closed already, but the sight of a full-sized coffin next to a child's casket, ready for burial, was enough to make him sick already. How many times would he have to see a mother and child buried together?

There was nothing out of the ordinary when the funeral procession got there, but after the caskets were placed above their respective plots, the rumble of an engine caught his, Furiosa's, and Nux's attention all at once. A restored 1959 Coupe DeVille had pulled up on the far side of the cemetary from the funeral. Max sneaked a glance at Nux, and it confirmed his suspicion—the look of abject terror on the kid's face meant it could be only one person. The service had already begun, and he and Furiosa exchanged a look before they faced forward again. They'd both opted to remain standing for the services, and for good reason. But there was nothing they could do about it right now. There were a few on-duty officers there, but if they approached the car, Joe would take off, if he was even driving. Just because it was his car didn't mean he was in it.

Sure enough, when Max glanced back again, it was Rictus taking the long walk across the grass towards the funeral. There was no arrest warrant out for him, and no one had a restraining order against him. He had a lot of words he could call Joe, but stupid was not one of them. Still, if he caused a disturbance, Max would see to it himself that it didn't last long. When he turned forward again, a low growl escaped with his breath. Three War Boys, in their signature black cargo pants and covered in white chalk, lurked just on the edge of the group of mourners, behind the couple rows of filled seats. Thankfully, the four girls were in the front. They hadn't seen the War Boys yet, and Max didn't think they saw Rictus, either. Surely they wouldn't try anything here, in front of everyone. They didn't look as though they had any guns on them, but it was hard to tell with their baggy pants; they could fit a pistol in any one of those pockets. Max caught the attention of one of the uniformed officers and pointed out the War Boys. The officer nodded and went to the back to stand near them, keep an eye on them, but nothing could be done for now. 

Beside him, Nux was growing increasingly restless. He cast glances over his shoulder every few seconds, as though he expected Rictus to show up right behind him. Max half expected that himself, but it seemed the man had at least the intelligence God gave pigs, because he wisely didn't get near Max, Furiosa, or any of the women. He stood a distance away, close enough to see, hear. Close enough to cause a commotion, but not close enough for anyone to immediately silence him.

The whole service was a tense affair, to put it lightly. Max heard none of the pastor's prayers, or Capable's or Cheedo's short speeches, but he kept a close eye on the girls after they'd become aware of the funeral's unwelcome company. They were keeping it together well. They weren't an easily frightened group.

Just as the pastor took the stand again to say the closing prayer, the inevitable happened.

“I had a brother! A baby brother! And he was perfect! Perfect in every way!" It was Rictus. Max growled and turned, ready to solve the problem himself, but Cheedo was faster. Dag tried to grab her arm, pull her back to her seat, but before anyone could stop her, she was on her feet and heading towards Rictus. Max didn't like this. He didn't know what she was doing, couldn't hear what she said when she stepped in front of him, but it couldn't be good. Rictus's attention shifted to her. He seemed placated—he put his hands on her shoulders gently. Max felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Was she crazy? She had to know she wouldn't be safe, surely she didn't want to go back to that. He kept watching, but didn't approach. The last thing he wanted was to agitate Rictus when he was so close to Cheedo. There was no telling what he'd do, and Max wasn't ready to put her in danger.

The closing prayer started after the commotion from Rictus's outburst settled, and when Max glanced around again he was relieved to see the War Boys had disappeared. He took a breath to try and calm himself and used what willpower he had to hold still for the remainder of the ceremony.

As soon as the caskets were lowered and the prayer was finished, Max turned sharply and was relieved to see Rictus heading back towards the DeVille, and Cheedo walking over to them. She went straight to Furiosa, looking shaken but otherwise alright. "Next week," she said, before either of them could ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, "Joe is going to be at the park downtown waiting for me. You can arrest him there."

Max blinked, then sighed and reached up to rub his eyes. Furiosa nodded and laid a hand on Cheedo's arm, squeezed it gently, murmured a thanks. Cheedo gave them a small smile, and quickly returned to Dag, who hugged her fiercely, then had a few words with her girlfriend. Max smiled a little himself and looked at Furiosa when she turned to him. But she stopped short just as she was about to speak and looked around. "Where's Nux?"

"He—" Max turned, but found Nux's place next to him empty. He looked around, too, hoping to see something Furiosa missed. "Shit!"

 

Nux hardly noticed when Rictus started yelling. His eyes were on the group of War Boys, heading towards the entrance of the cemetary where they'd come from in the first place. But he couldn't see their car. A fence surrounded the cemetary, and there was a cluster of thickly branched trees starting about twenty meters from gate and running all the way around the cemetary. Nux guessed they'd parked the car on the other side, hidden behind the foliage. They hadn't done anything during the funeral, but they weren't here for no reason—Joe wouldn't send War Boys to his son's funeral for nothing. 

Max's full attention was on Rictus, so Nux took the opportunity to slip away and head towards the trees, following the other Boys at a distance. He didn't think they'd seen him, and if he jumped the fence he might be able to reach the car in time to handicap it before they got there. It would have to be something quick, which meant they could fix it easily as soon as they figured out what was wrong, but maybe that'd give the remaining Wives and Max time to get far enough from the cemetary that the War Boys couldn't follow. 

The branches rustled loudly when he forced himself through the leaves to get to the fence. He could see the car on the other side, parked by the side of the road, as close as they could get to the entrance without being seen from the cemetary side of the fence. It was going to be tough climbing a fence in slacks and a button-up, but he figured Max would forgive him if he ripped some of the clothing. It would be worth it if he kept the War Boys from following the Wives.

He got one hand on the top of the fence and one toe wedged into a link about midway up the fence. He lifted his other leg to swing it over when a hand snagged the back of the shirt and yanked him down. He yelped as he hit the ground, the air knocked out of him, and he found himself staring up at three grinning War Boys.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

"He can't have gotten far. When did you see him last?"

"Right before Cheedo went to talk to Rictus."

They'd sent the girls away already, and most of the mourners were getting into their cars. Only Max and Furiosa hadn't moved yet, talking in low voices. None of the girls had seemed to register that Nux was gone, too preoccupied with their own grief and fear, even Capable. That was lucky. She'd probably strangle him if she found out he lost Nux.

"Right about the time when the other War Boys left?" Furiosa suggested.

"He wouldn't leave with them. Not now," Max said firmly, but Furiosa looked skeptical and even Max didn't feel as confident as he sounded. He looked away from Furiosa's withering gaze to survey the cemetary again, hoping Nux would show up somewhere. But there was nothing. Everyone else had cleared out already, and they had a full view of the cemetary. Except...

Max started to scan the trees. They were thick, but if anyone moved in them, the whole damn tree would be shaking. There was no wind that day. He turned and caught sight of a few branches quiver, just near the entrance. Without a word, he started over, resisting the impulse to run. What the hell was that kid doing in the trees?

Furiosa followed him without question.

As they drew closer, Max heard a shout and did break into a run. He could see movement, people through the branches. "Hey!" he snapped, shoving through the leaves. The three War Boys were there, and Nux was struggling to stand as two of them tried to drag him away from the third by his shirt. Nux fought their grip, and when the Boy in front of him grabbed his arm he lunged up to throw a vicious hook with his other arm, sending the Boy to the ground.

"Hey! Let go of him!"

The other Boys looked up at the sound of Max's voice and shoved Nux away before they made a break for the fence, the third straggling after them, apparently still dazed. They scaled the fence with impressive speed, and Max heard the engine of the car on the other side start up, but his focus was on Nux.

"Shit," he muttered, grabbing Nux's arm to stop him from stumbling. He had blood all over his mouth and chin, most of it coming from a bleeding nose that looked broken. His left eye was swelling, but he grinned at Max. "What the hell happened?" Max asked.

Nux's smile faded and he glanced over as the car tore out from where it was parked. "They were...I thought they were gonna try and follow the Wives," he explained, then spat out some blood that had found its way into his mouth.

"So you fought them?" Max raised his brow, and grabbed Nux's wrist when he moved to touch his nose. "Don't do that."

"Well...I was gonna pop a tire or something. But they caught me before I could get there," Nux said.

Max heaved a sigh and glanced at Furiosa, then shook his head. "You're an idiot," he muttered. "The girls already left. They won't catch up. Come on, let's go home, get you cleaned up."

Nux followed him out of the trees, and they parted ways with Furiosa at the cars; they'd both parked closer to the grave sites. Nux was silent as Max pulled out of his spot and made a U-turn to go back to the entrance and get on the main road. He glanced over when he heard a pained grunt to see Nux's hands on his nose, and when he dropped them, the bridge of his nose was mostly straight again. He wiped some of the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, careful not to get it on the sleeve—not that it mattered. There were already drops of blood on the front of it that had dripped down from his face. "You didn't...think I was trying to leave, right?" Nux asked after a moment, casting a sideways glance at Max.

Max paused and tapped the wheel as he considered the question. "No," he finally said, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile before Nux turned his head to look out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to twiggzzler for her help with my crazy weekend writing kick. She makes all this possible, yo.
> 
> Title from the song Two Coffins by Against Me! Suggestion courtesy of (you guessed it!) my lovely beta.
> 
> Also, thank you guys so much for all the feedback. Today was crazy but know that I'm reading them, I love them, and I WILL respond to comments!


	8. Bad Habits

The nightmares were back. It was the funeral that did it—it was the sound of crying he couldn't get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. And with the nightmares came the lack of sleep, the constant irritability. He tried to keep himself in check, especially around Nux, who flinched instinctively when Max snapped at him, but his shortness of patience continued into the following day after the funeral, and didn't improve the third day, when he got up early to get ready for work. It would be the first time he and Furiosa had worked since they'd responded to Angharad's wreck, about a week ago now. Max didn't feel ready; he couldn't imagine how Furiosa was doing this. But she was tough, and so was he. Maybe work would take his mind off things.

 

He'd heard Nux moving around late the night before, between the naps he caught throughout the night that served as sleep. He was still up—Max could hear the TV on downstairs, just barely. He went through the motions getting ready, his mind on coffee, and the cat came in briefly to meow a, "Good morning, where's my food?"

 

"I'll be right down, hold your horses," Max muttered to her as she rubbed against his legs. At least she had black hair; it stuck to his uniform, but it was hard to see. He'd brush it off after he got outside. When he headed towards the door she darted out in front of him and dashed down the stairs as he followed at a considerably slower pace.

 

Max glanced around when he reached the bottom of the stairs and frowned. He didn't see Nux, but the TV was on and he wasn't in his room—the door was open to the spare room and Max had seen it was empty on his way down. One step further into the living room and he could see Nux kneeling by the coffee table in front of the couch. He had a tightly rolled scrap of paper clenched in one hand, the other scrubbing furiously at his nose.

 

Max's patience, already worn thin, snapped.

 

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" he snarled, closing the distance between himself and Nux in two quick strides. He grabbed Nux by his arm and yanked him to his feet, then snatched the paper out of his hand. "What is this? Fucking cocaine? You're in a police officer's house doing lines? Have you lost your damn mind?"

 

Nux tried to jerk out of his grasp, but Max kept his grip. Nux dropped his weight to shift his center of gravity, but Max held on and shook him. "Answer me! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

 

Nux looked up at him, and his pupils were blown wide. Max barely had time to register that before Nux lunged up and his forehead connected with Max's mouth and nose. Stars flashed in front of his vision. He cursed and stumbled back, surprised, but managed to keep his grip even as his other hand flew up to his mouth. His fingers came away with blood from a split lip. "That's it," he muttered, and risked stepping close again to twist the boy's arm behind his back. He grabbed the back of Nux's neck with his other hand and pushed him forward to keep him off balance, forced him towards the stairs. "Up. Go," he barked, but ended up half-shoving, half dragging Nux the entire way as the kid fought him, snarling incoherently. When a kick sent the only vase he had crashing to the ground, Max was glad he didn't have more furniture. He was a little surprised by the ferocity of Nux's reaction, but he shouldn't have been. He'd seen before how big of a difference drugs, especially cocaine, could make in someone, and Nux was no exception.

 

His hardwood bed was the only thing in the house big and heavy enough that Nux couldn't possibly move on his own, so Max brought him to his bedroom and pushed him against the wall, pinning Nux there with his shoulder while he got out his handcuffs. He'd have to grab a spare set at the station when he picked up his gun. Nux threw his weight back and tried to squirm out from underneath him, but Max managed to get one cuff around Nux's wrist, and put the other around one of the thick, solid wood slats on the headboard of his bed. He stepped back to dodge an elbow and crossed his arms over his chest when he was safely out of range. "Can't trust you alone," he said gruffly, then checked his watch and cursed. He was going to be late. 

 

"Piss off, slager!" Nux snarled after him as Max went to the door. A few more colorful curses followed him as he went down the stairs, but Max ignored it and slammed the front door behind him on the way out.

 

 

 

 

By the end of his twelve-hour shift, Max felt like complete shit. He was exhausted and work had done nothing to pull his mind off his troubles, but on top of that, he felt guilty. He'd left a drugged teenager handcuffed to a bed with no food or water for twelve hours; what kind of person did that? It sounded like an incident dispatch would send someone to, but _he'd_ done it.

 

As soon as he checked in his pistol and the extra pair of handcuffs he'd borrowed, he got off the clock and rushed back without hardly a word to Furiosa, ignoring her questioning looks. He grabbed a bottle of water from his car before he went inside and took the stairs two at a time. There wasn't any noise coming from upstairs, which made his pace quicken. He had no idea how much cocaine Nux had done, and he wasn't a big guy. He hadn't had any water all day. Max would never forgive himself if something had happened.

 

The sight that greeted him when he opened the bedroom door was...well, it wasn't what he'd expected.

 

Nux was settled on the bed close to the headboard, fiddling with disassembled pieces of the lamp from the bedside table. His alarm clock radio was likewise spread out over a different section of the comforter. The drawers were pulled all the way out, and everything from inside them was separated in haphazard piles.

 

 

Max sighed with relief and stepped over as Nux looked up, fear crossing his face as he quickly started to put the lamp together. "Sorry, I'll put it all back together, I didn't know you were coming back...it'll just take me a minute," he said.

 

Max swatted his hands away from the electrical bits and handed him the water bottle instead. "Drink," he ordered, clearing a little space to sit on the duvet. His hands brushed cotton and he looked down with a frown. The entire edge of the bedspread was unstitched.

 

"Sorry," Nux repeated. "I can put it back together."

 

"Don't worry about it," Max said wearily, getting the key out and leaning over Nux to get his hand out of the cuff. His wrist was red and abraded, and Max grasped his hand to examine it. He dropped it, and after Nux finished the water bottle (all in only a few long, eager gulps), Max watched him silently for a moment as Nux returned to the lamp. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he finally said, dropping his eyes away to look over the organized chaos that was his bed.

 

"S'alright," Nux replied, and he sounded like he meant it. Max turned back to him and watched him as he set up the lamp with impressive speed and put it back on the table. He went to work on the radio next, and Max started to put away the drawers. There wasn't much in there. Some books, some odds and ends...pictures. Where were the pictures?

 

"Where—" he began, panic creeping into his voice.

 

"They're here," Nux cut him off, reaching over to the pillow on the far side of the bed to pick up the small stack of pictures Max had kept. Mostly Jessie and Sprog, a few of one or the other with the dog. None with him.

 

Nux didn't hand them to him. "Who are they?" he asked.

 

Max grabbed them anyway and put them back in the bottom drawer. That was all he kept in there. He didn't open it often. "You can't guess?" Max replied, his voice a little more gruff than he'd meant to be.

 

Nux looked at the drawer as Max shut it. "I didn't know my parents," he said, unprompted.

 

Max looked at him.

 

Nux dropped his eyes and cleared his throat, fidgeted with the pieces of alarm clock in his lap. "I mean...they just ditched me somewhere when I was little. Immortan was always my dad. So I think it's pretty good that you were around. Like you did your best," he explained, words coming easier as he worked on the hardware.

 

"Well...my best wasn't good enough," Max muttered after a moment, watching Nux's hands.

 

"I think you're chrome," Nux said with conviction, glancing up at Max with his ocean blue eyes and offering a small grin before he went back to his work.

 

Max frowned. He'd chained the kid up like a dog for a full day, and he was saying this. What kind of life did this kid have under Joe if this type of treatment was considered chrome? He didn't want to try and untangle all the feelings that twisted in his gut. Speaking of which. Max interrupted Nux work to take Nux's face in his hand. He brushed his thumb lightly just beneath the bruise on his eye. "How's it feel?"

 

Nux shrugged. "Stings, if I move my face," he said with a chuckle.

 

Max nodded and examined it for a moment longer—it was still fresh, but seemed to be healing fine—then stood up and started to take off his uniform and change into sweats and a clean t-shirt. "Come downstairs when you're done with that. What do you want for dinner?"

 

"Vegemite?" Nux suggested without looking up.

 

"How about chicken?" Max suggested. After a full day with no food, the kid needed something a little more substantial than a sandwich.

 

Nux nodded and Max went downstairs to start dinner and feed the cat, who also hadn't eaten all day and was being quite vocal about it.

 

 

 

 

Max could barely close his eyes. He'd been lying in bed for three hours and fourteen minutes now, and his eyelids felt like lead. But each time he closed them, the sounds and the images jumped out at him.

 

He'd let Nux sleep in the spare bedroom that night after searching the house for any more coke, and hadn't found anything but what Nux had handed over. Apparently he'd been hiding it underneath the couch cushions. Max couldn't believe he'd overlooked it before—Joe was a drug kingpin, for Christ's sake, he'd known Nux had a drug history, and between everything he'd still never thought to make sure the kid didn't have any on him.

 

Anyway, he hadn't heard anything from outside his open bedroom door, which was good. Nux wasn't trying to sneak around; he was behaving. But the silence only left room for his memories, and none of the good ones came out that night.

 

For a while, he managed to drift off, but that proved worse. He woke with a shout, jerking halfway up to a sitting position and looking around frantically. Max forced himself to blink, concentrate on his breathing, but it wasn't helping. He felt paralyzed with fear, even after the shaking and sweating subsided a little.

 

His eyes snapped to the door when a shadow moved and Nux crept into the room, looking like a ghost in the darkness.

 

"It's fine. Go back to bed," Max grunted. Nux didn't need to be up right now, Max could handle it himself.

 

Nux looked at him curiously, then approached the bed. Just as Max was about to ask what he was doing, Nux sidled into the bed underneath the covers and stretched out next to him. "Capable says it's bad to be alone when you're upset," Nux explained, his voice low.

 

"I'm fine," Max repeated.

 

Nux didn't dignify that with a response and instead dropped his head to the pillow.

 

But Capable was onto something. With the sound of another's breathing to distract him, the sounds in his head faded to a dull roar long enough for him to drift off to sleep again. He still woke frequently but each time he did it was to another body in his bed, and even if it wasn't Jessie, and he knew it wasn't Jessie, for the first time in a long time throughout the night in the darkness and safety of his bed, he let himself be selfish and he pretended it was her. And a few times he almost believed it.

 

The last dream he had was a good one, for once. He was sprawled out on his back, how he usually slept nowadays, but Jessie was pressed against his side with her head on his shoulder, his arm around her loosely. Soft morning light filtered in through the drapes of his old bedroom in his old house, the one he'd sold after everything had happened. Jessie started kissing his neck, and her hand on his chest crept down over his stomach and toyed at the waistband of his boxers teasingly for a moment before sliding down further to palm at him, a little roughly, from outside his shorts. He grunted, started to shift to turn into her, kiss her, touch her, but before he could, she pushed the blankets down and got onto her knees, shuffling away to settle between his legs. Max groaned and laid back again, shifting helpfully, if lazily, to lift his hips and help her get his boxers off.

 

He closed his eyes finally, couldn't help it, when she leaned down to wrap her mouth around the head of his already straining cock. It took all the willpower he had not to thrust up into that soft heat—it had been too long. He pushed that thought away, tried to bury it. This was a dream, his only good one in ages, and he was going to enjoy it as long as he could without letting reality ruin it.

 

Max opened his eyes to a dark room, which was strange since it had been well into morning hours only a second ago in his dream. He didn't like the darkness in his dreams, darkness didn't bode well, so he closed his eyes again in hopes it would change something, his thinking clouded by arousal and sleep. Meanwhile, as the knot of heat and tension in his gut tightened and his cock throbbed as Jessie swallowed him down to the base, his hand drifted down to touch Jessie's hair.

 

But when he brushed his hand over her head, he didn't feel her hair—not the long, soft hair he was expecting. It was short, prickly. Shaven. Max's eyes snapped open.

 

"Nux," he choked. He meant to shove the kid off, but instead his fingers curled around the back of Nux's head, not quite pushing him down. He was so close, he couldn't think straight. Sure enough, not a moment later, as Nux sucked hard on the head of his member, Max came with a groan, his hips jerking up involuntarily as his free hand twisted in the sheet, the other still on Nux's head.

 

Max, panting softly, laid still as Nux climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom. He heard the sink run for a moment, then shut off before Nux came back and crawled onto the bed again, stretched out beside Max. Grinned at him.

 

"Nux," Max began, but paused as Nux's smile faded at the tone of his voice. He sighed and sat up, pulling the sheets up to cover himself up to the hips, at least. At some point he'd kicked his boxers all the way off and he had no idea where they went. "You can't do that," he finally finished, turning to look at Nux.

 

"Why not?" Nux asked, a little defensive but mostly confused.

 

"I'm...I'm too old for you. And I was asleep. You can't do that when someone's sleeping," he explained. Even as he spoke, he could see the gears turning in Nux's head and he knew this was going to turn into a conversation.

 

"How old are you?" Nux asked skeptically, raising his eyebrow.

 

Not totally the point. "I'm twenty-six. But that's--"

 

"You're not that old. Slit's twenty-two."

 

"Slit?" It was Max's turn to be confused. What did Slit have to do with this? All Max knew about the guy was that Nux lived with him.

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

Max shook his head. He didn't want to have this conversation. This was Capable's area of expertise, not his. He was just here to make sure the kid didn't take off before the trial. "Okay, you still can't do that when someone's asleep," he tried, going for a more solid defense.

 

"I don't understand," Nux said, sounding like he didn't have a lot of intention to try.

 

"I don't want you to do that. Since I was sleeping, I couldn't tell you that," Max said deliberately. He never thought he'd be breaking down the meaning of consent to a sixteen year old boy.

 

"You didn't like it?" Nux asked doubtfully, casting him a sidelong glance.

 

"Whether I _liked_ it isn't—just don't do it, alright? Don't do that. I don't want you to," Max said with finality, then turned to look over the side of the bed for his boxers. He snagged them off the ground and pulled them on underneath the blankets.

 

"What _do_ you want? Sex?" Nux asked, as exasperated as Max felt.

 

"No!"

 

"But why _not_?"

 

"I just don't!" Max took a deep breath and reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "None of that, okay? No sex, no blow jobs, nothing. Got it?"

 

Nux shrugged and flopped back on the bed. "Whatever. You're weird."

 

Max blinked at him, then shook his head and stood up. The absurdity of it would almost be funny if he wasn't so irritated. He'd have to start getting up earlier, he noted as he started to get dressed, because Nux had a knack for making sure he was running late for work every morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consent is important, kids.
> 
> As always, thanks to twiggzzler for fixing all my mistakes and providing endless ideas!


	9. Listed MIA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING PLEASE READ: if you haven't noticed the updated tags, please be aware there is a rape scene and non-consensual drug use in this chapter. Twiggzzler was kind enough to suggest that I mark the beginning and end of the rape scene with asterisks, so anyone who doesn't want to read that but does want to continue the story can do so without being triggered. HOWEVER, the non-consensual drug use is not marked. NON-CONSENSUAL DRUG USE IS IN THE LAST TWO PARAGRAPHS.
> 
> I know I'm kind of spoiling the chapter here, but this is supposed to be fun for everyone, and being triggered is NOT fun. If even the implication of rape upsets you, I suggest you skip this chapter. If you feel like you're missing out, comment on here or message me on tumblr (same username) and I'll give you a quick G-rated rundown!
> 
> Also, please be warned there will be more consent issues further along in the story, but there won't be any more rape scenes. 
> 
> For those of you who do read, enjoy! The title is from one of my favorite songs, "Listed MIA," by Rancid.

“There's leftover steak and stuff for sandwiches. I'm going to have my phone on me all day, but after about seven, I might not answer for a little while. If you get bored, the Oldsmobile is in the shed. Don't leave the property. Alright?”

 

This was the first time since their little incident that Nux would be home all day by himself. Capable had to work, and after that, she and the other girls would be at the station to positively identify Joe after his arrest. That was tonight—he was going to show up at the downtown park, ostensibly to pick up Cheedo. She'd be there, along with a number of police officers who had a warrant for his arrest. Cheedo had arranged to meet him at nine, and they were all going to be there early, in unmarked cars, arriving at different times, to stake out the area and watch. Chances were good that Joe would have people there beforehand as well, but they'd be a little easier to spot than plainclothes officers.

 

Needless to say, Max was a little nervous. Nux had been behaving himself, besides the mood swings and general sickness that came with quitting a hard drug. But thankfully, none of his outbursts had gotten physical again, and Max had picked up some pointers from Capable on how to handle him when he got agitated.

 

“Yeah, I got it,” Nux sighed, not even looking at Max. He was sunk deep into the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table and the cat stretched out on top of him. He was petting her softly—that had taken some getting used to, for Nux. He could be a little rough without meaning to, he still was with Max, who didn't mind it so much, but he'd had to explain that the cat didn't like her fur being ruffled constantly. They'd warmed up to each other pretty well, all things considered.

 

Nux seemed even more reticent than usual today. He hadn't been chattering all morning, and he'd hardly even looked at Max. It made him nervous, but he told himself that Nux was probably just not feeling well. He was sixteen years old; he could take care of himself for a day, Max told himself.

 

“Alright. I should be back around eleven,” Max said, finally heading towards the door. He cast one more glance back at Nux, whose full concentration was still on the cat in his lap, before he left, locking the door behind him.

 

Nux continued to pet the cat for a few minutes after he heard Max's engine fade out towards town. Then, he carefully picked her up and set her on the floor, ignoring her meows of protest, and went upstairs to get dressed.

 

 

Max checked his watch for what felt like the millionth time. It was already dark, and Cheedo was getting ready to go out and wait for Joe. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a jacket to better cover the small framework of wires that were taped to her abdomen with a mic clipped to her shirt. They probably wouldn't get anything in the way of a confession from this, but if something went wrong, they'd know right away and it would make their response time better. The van with the sound equipment for the wires was parked a ways from them, but they'd contact the officers closest to Cheedo in case something unplanned did happen and they needed to intervene.

 

Everything was taken care of. It would all go fine. So why was he so damn nervous?

 

Furiosa was her usual calm self, staring out the passenger's side window at the quiet park. She glanced at Max when he took up tapping on the steering wheel again. “It's going to be fine,” she said, turning to look outside again. “Cheedo can handle herself.”

 

Max snorted in response and ignored the withering look Furiosa cast him. If Cheedo could handle herself so well, why had she spent so long being one of Joe's sister wives? Max didn't even think he could handle himself alone against a drug lord and his lackeys.

 

Yet, despite Furiosa's apparent calm, both straightened in their seats when they saw Cheedo step out of the equipment van. It looked like a soccer-mom car, but the whole back had been ripped out and replaced with everything they needed for missions like this. Max wished he was in there. He wanted to hear everything that was going on.

 

Cheedo must have known which car was theirs, because she chose a bench near where their car was parked. They could see her perfectly. Both Max and Furiosa watched intently, silently.

 

It was half an hour that felt like forever before anything happened. A few people came and went on the path, mostly couples, a few teenagers, but it was Rictus who finally appeared to sit next to Cheedo on the bench. Max growled and looked around. Where was Joe? Where had Rictus come from? He hadn't used the path, he'd come from the trees—Joe must have told him to do that, there was no way Rictus was smart enough to come up with that on his own. That wasn't the thought process of an average War Boy. But where was Joe? Surely he'd come.

 

Cheedo and Rictus appeared to be talking. Toast came over the radio, turned down low but audible. “There's the Coupe. The other side of the statue. I think Joe's in it,” her voice crackled. Max looked where she'd indicated, and he could see just the front end of the Coupe. He muttered a curse—he wanted to see the bastard's face. They had to make sure he was in there.

 

“You think or you know?” Furiosa asked the transmitter.

 

“I can't tell for sure,” Toast admitted a moment later.

 

Max shook his head and looked back to Cheedo. They'd both stood up, but Cheedo obstinately refused to follow when Rictus started back towards the direction from which he'd come . This wasn't going well. Max shifted anxiously in his seat, just waiting for the van to give them the go ahead.

 

It all happened at the same time. Max and Furiosa saw Rictus grab Cheedo's arm, jerking her forward. The radio crackled to life again, “Furiosa, Rockatansky, she needs help--” Max slammed his door open before the other officer could finish and he and Furiosa took off at a sprint.

 

Rictus caught sight of them before they could get close enough for a good shot. He grabbed Cheedo around the waist, picked her up off the ground, but she screamed and writhed, clawed at his face and arms. She managed to fight her way out of his grip and fell to the ground. “Get down!” Furiosa screamed as she leveled her pistol. The shot caught Rictus's bicep when he lunged for Cheedo, and the second shot, though it missed, convinced him to give it up. He turned tail and ran back to the Coupe.

 

Max and Furiosa helped Cheedo up as several engines roared to life—the Coupe and the two additional unmarked cars that were staked out with them. Max wanted to chase Rictus, but it was too dangerous on foot. The War Boys would open fire on him as soon as he was close enough to see, maybe before. Sure enough, as the Coupe took off down the street, a submachine gun dusted the park. Furiosa and Cheedo dove behind a trash can barely big enough to conceal the both of them, and Max took cover behind a tree. Neither options were the best cover, but it was better than nothing.

 

The unmarked cars tore out after the Coupe, but Max doubted they'd catch it. Nux had told him all about the illegal modifications the War Boys could do—their cars were just too fast, and no doubt Joe's own would be the fastest of all of them.

 

They shuffled Cheedo quickly back to their own car. Furiosa got into the back with her while Max pulled out and headed back to the station, keeping a careful eye out for any other cars on the road. But if Joe had brought any additional War Boys in other cars, they were gone now—it was late on a Thursday night and there were hardly any cars out.

 

Cheedo was shaken, but, besides a bruise blooming on her forearm where Rictus had grabbed her, unhurt. Mostly, she was angry. She and Furiosa talked in low voices the whole ride back, and Max didn't try to listen in, already turning gears to try and come up with another plan. Baiting wouldn't work again. They'd have to seek him out.

 

 

Nux pulled his hood up over his head when he was a few blocks away from Slit's house. He wasn't stupid—Max didn't tell him much, but through picking up bits of information and a little inference, he knew tonight was the night they were going to arrest Joe. They'd clean up the rest of the War Boys with any charges they could stick on them soon after, and Nux couldn't help most of them. But he might be able to help Slit.

 

He'd already decided not to knock on the door—if Slit even answered, he'd just slam the door in Nux's face. He needed to be able to actually talk to Slit. Thankfully, he remembered the code for opening the garage. He crossed his fingers as he typed it in, and breathed a sigh of relief when it worked. Slit hadn't changed it. Probably assumed Nux wasn't coming back.

 

Nux hit the button inside the garage to shut it, and just as it closed all the way, the door to the house opened and Slit flipped on the garage light, looking around. His expression darkened from confusion to disgust when he caught sight of Nux. “What do you want, filth? Get tired of suckin' blue heeler dick?”

 

Nux pulled his hood off and sighed. “Listen, Slit, I know you're mad—“

 

“Mad? I ain't mad. I just wanna know what some dobber's doing in my house,” he said, jumping down the stairs and walking closer to Nux.

 

“Just shut up, Slit! I'm trying to help you. They're taking Joe in tonight. They're gonna arrest him and he's gonna go to prison. A lot of the other Boys will too, probably. But you don't have to! You can come with me, and all you have to do is tell the truth and they won't send you to jail. Easy as! You just have to tell the truth,” Nux explained, quickly, before Slit could interrupt him again.

 

Slit stalked closer as Nux spoke, until they were standing close, only about a foot away from each other.

 

Nux heard the pistol cock before he saw it. He stepped back when Slit raised it, but Slit reached up and grabbed the front of his jacket, dragged him closer with it and pressed the barrel just underneath Nux's jaw. “You think I'm gonna turn traitor just because you did? I'm not weak like you, Nux. I don't need help from cops,” he sneered.

 

“I'm not weak,” Nux muttered. He tried to jerk away, pushing at Slit's chest, but Slit only laughed, yanked him closer, then jabbed the pistol into the soft spot underneath his jaw.

 

“You think I won't blow your brains out right now? What are the heelers gonna do without their rat to take to court against Joe? They got nothin' now they don't got you.”

 

That was enough to convince Nux to stop struggling. The gun was rather distracting, but Nux frowned as Slit's words sank in. “I'm not staying here,” he said. “I'm going back.”

 

Slit rolled his eyes. “God, you're stupid. You think I'd let you leave after what you just told me? The only reason you're not dead yet is 'cause I bet Joe will want to handle you himself. He makes examples out of deros like you!” Slit yanked Nux forward by his collar, dragging him towards the door. Nux tried to dig his heels into the smooth concrete but his worn boots just slid over it, so he changed tactics and tried to pry Slit's hand off of his jacket. He got one finger off before Slit growled and cracked the base of the pistol's grip on Nux's temple. Stars exploded in his vision, and when he blinked them away, Slit was already opening the door and hauling him inside, practically carrying him. Slit slammed the door and Nux realized that he was speaking. “...forgot who you belong to. So I'm gonna remind you.”

 

Nux grunted and pushed at Slit, trying to squirm out of his grip, but he was weak already from detoxing and dizzy as well from the blow to his head. It wasn't any hard thing for Slit to get him to the bedroom, and he threw Nux onto his back on the bed with so much force Nux felt like he'd just yanked the e-brake in a car going sixty. His head hurt, and he still couldn't quite see straight. And what did Slit mean, remind him who he belonged to?

 

He managed to rouse himself when he felt the bed dip beside him, and he tried to sit up but Slit pushed him back down again and straddled his legs, settling his full weight there so Nux had no leverage to throw him off. “What are you _doing_? Get offa me,” Nux snapped, reaching up to try and push Slit's hands away when they tore at his jacket.

 

****************************************************************

 

“Who's clothes are these, Nux? Huh? They dressing you now?” Slit sneered. He managed to yank the jacket off over Nux's head, then went for the shirt, but Nux grabbed the hem and held it down.

 

“Stop it!”

 

Slit grinned down at him, a rather terrifying sight in and of itself, and reached into his pocket, took out his knife, and thumbed the switch. The blade popped out and he cut the t-shirt from the collar down, nicking Nux a few times on the way.

 

They'd played games a few times like this—Nux would tell Slit to lay off, fight him until Slit won. And when it came to this, Slit always won. There were a few times when Nux hadn't wanted to play, but Slit had, and Nux always eventually gave in, which was fine. Or maybe it wasn't fine. It hurt sometimes, and sometimes... Max had confused him, talking about when someone said they didn't want to, you had to stop. Maybe that was just something Max did. Or maybe he had to say it just the way Max did, and Nux really did want Slit to stop this time. He struggled to remember what Max had said, the exact words he'd used.

 

“Don't do that. I don't want you to,” he parroted finally, firmly, the way Max had said it, and for a second, it worked. Slit was tugging at his belt, and he paused, looked up at Nux in confusion. That was it—he just had to say it just like that.

 

Then, Slit leaned up, moved his free hand to grasp Nux's jaw tight, painfully tight. “I don't give a _shit_ what you want, slag,” he hissed, and pressed his lips to Nux's in a kiss that was more teeth than tongue. Nux tasted blood on his lip when Slit finally pulled away.

 

Slit had gotten the belt open during the kiss, and he yanked Nux's jeans down as much as he could with where he was sitting, then grabbed his shoulder and shifted his weight just long enough to wrestle Nux onto his stomach. Nux got his hands underneath him, but as soon as he tried to push up, Slit grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his face into the mattress—Nux had to turn his head to the side to get a gasp of air, and in the meantime, Slit pulled his hips up and slapped his exposed ass hard. Nux growled into the blanket to smother his whimper.

 

The rest was largely a haze of pain. Slit kept his grip on the back of Nux's neck as he spit on his hand and shoved two fingers into Nux's entrance, and laughed when Nux yelped at the sudden intrusion. He worked them back and forth a few times, but that was all Nux got before Slit pulled them out and spat on his hand again, this time coating his dick with his saliva. He lined himself up and shoved almost all the way in in a single thrust. Nux turned his face into the mattress again, but it did little to muffle his scream, and Slit smacked his ass hard again when he instinctively tried to jerk away. Nux closed his eyes tight as Slit picked up a rhythm, rough and quick, moving his free hand to grasp Nux's hip. Yet, in spite of everything, when the sharp pain settled to a constant sting, Nux felt a stirring in his gut. He tried to will it away, not wanting to give Slit the satisfaction of knowing that this affected him, but soon enough, he was half-hard and choking back moans each time a careless thrust brushed against his sweet spot. The thing was, Slit had always been kind of rough—Nux hadn't minded it mostly, had liked it even, and though this was worse than it had ever been before, he reacted to the sensations like Pavlov's dog.

 

Suddenly, Slit shifted and the next thrust angled just right to hit his prostate. Nux's moan surprised himself perhaps more than it did Slit, and Nux felt his face redden with embarrassment when Slit dropped the hand on his hip down to wrap around his cock. Slit laughed and stroked him teasingly. “See? I knew you wanted it,” he crowed, a little breathlessly. He slammed hard into Nux, earning another cut-off moan, and began to jerk Nux's cock in time with his own thrusts. Nux twisted his hands in the sheets and tried not to make a sound.

 

It had been over a week since Nux had done anything, so it didn't take him long. He came with a strangled cry to the sound of Slit laughing behind him. He slumped bonelessly against the bed after his orgasm washed over him and the exhaustion dulled the pain for a few minutes.

 

He let himself drift in that good feeling after coming until he heard Slit grunt, his thrusts quickening, getting sharp and short. Sure enough, as Nux expected, only a few thrusts later Slit leaned down to bite into his shoulder, just next to Immortan's brand on the back of his neck, to muffle his own moan as he came.

 

Nux shuddered when Slit, finally finished, sat up and pulled out of him, shoving Nux onto his side. Slit tucked himself away and buckled up his black pants, then got up.

 

****************************************************************

 

As Slit left the room, Nux slowly sat up, clenching his fists so he wouldn't have to feel them shake. He sat for a moment, dazed, but stood up shakily when he remembered he was still only half-dressed. After he pulled his jeans up and did the buckle, Slit returned. Nux had just enough time to catch sight of a pair of zip-ties before Slit grabbed his hands and deftly put them through the loops. Nux tried to pull back, but Slit had already gotten a hold of the tails, so the motion only tightened them. “What the fuck?” Nux snapped, trying to yank the plastic ties off one hand with the other. It only made them cut painfully into his wrists.

 

Slit laughed and pushed his chest so he fell back to sit on the bed. “You think I'm just gonna let you have free reign around here? No, you're gonna hang out just like this til Immortan wants to see you,” he said, moving around the bed behind Nux. Nux twisted to see what he was doing, watched as Slit tore off a big piece of the ripped t-shirt he'd been wearing before. He got on his knees on the bed behind Nux and grabbed his jaw with one hand to keep him still. When he shoved the fabric in between Nux's teeth, he barely escaped without losing a finger, but managed to tie the fabric together tightly behind Nux's head without further incident. He got up again once he was done and patted Nux's cheek sharply. “Hold still. I'm gonna get you something,” he grinned and winked.

 

Nux growled into the strip of shirt in his mouth and stood up, more to spite Slit than anything. While he was up, he looked around the room for a phone, but Slit must have been carrying it on him because there wasn't one on the bedside table or anywhere else he looked. He wasn't even sure who he would call. He didn't have Max's number, and he didn't want to call Capable—what if she tried to come here herself? She'd get hurt, or Slit would take her, too, and give her to Immortan. He'd never called the cops before; what if they arrested him, too? He was supposed to be in Max's custody. If they found him here, they might take back the deal since they already had his statement. But before he figured any of that out, he'd need to actually find a phone.

 

He whipped around when he heard footsteps and Slit was at the door, his scowl at odds with his Glasgow grin. “Told ya not to move,” he growled, grabbing Nux's arm and pushing him onto the bed again. He had a syringe and a thick rubber band in his hand. “This'll help you calm down,” Slit said, grabbing his wrist. Nux tried to yank away, panic creeping up in his chest. He didn't know for sure what it was, but heroin was a good guess. War Boys never did heroin, they weren't allowed to—it would make them lazy, Immortan said. Nux had only ever transported it, never used it, and Max had told him he wasn't supposed to drugs anymore, cocaine or anything else. He shook his head frantically as Slit tied the band around his arm, but he couldn't wrestle away from the bigger War Boy. The band cut into his arm when it was tied off, hurt, but he hardly noticed it in comparison to the knot in his stomach as he watched Slit tap the syringe and push a little out to get rid of the bubbles. He tried to speak around the gag, but it came out gargled and Slit just glanced up at him and grinned as he held Nux's arm still with one hand and carefully slid the needle into a bulging vein with the other. “Don't worry, mate. You'll feel better soon,” he promised.

 

That didn't help much. Nux could  _feel_ his nerves fraying, but it was too late now—he didn't even know what  _happened_ when someone took heroin, he'd never thought to ask. Immortan gave them as much coke as they wanted; he'd never cared about anything else. But Slit wasn't lying. Only seconds later, Nux slowly sunk into the pillows at the headboard of the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge. Slit left, came back. He could have been gone for ten minutes or two hours, Nux didn't know. He couldn't get a handle on time—it was slippery now. Slit grabbed his ankles and threw his legs up onto the bed with the rest of him. Nux hardly noticed; his eyes, pupils like pinpricks in his irises, tracked Slit lazily through the room, and he sort of felt like he should be doing something, but even that thought faded away in a few minutes. It occurred to him presently that he might enjoy himself more if his eyes were closed, so he tried it, and found his suspicions were correct. He felt a hand brush his cheek. “Told ya you'd feel better,” Slit said. “Immortan will be here soon to deal with you.” Nux just hummed in response, and kept his eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you're done reading, the bad news. I'm not sure I'll be getting a chapter done this weekend like usual. Thankfully, I wrote this over the weekend, but I've been blindsided by some personal issues that are stressing me out and making it hard to concentrate on writing. I should be back on my game by next week. Don't worry, this story will not be abandoned! I'm too much of an egotist who likes kudos and comments to stop writing now ;) you guys got me addicted to hearing from you!
> 
> Thanks again to Twiggzzler for all her advice, suggestions, and fixing of my general fuckery!
> 
> As always, if you have suggestions or ideas or criticisms please let me know!


	10. Millstones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, guys. Super sorry. The good news is, I'm back on the proverbial horse, so updates from now on should be more frequent, about every week or so like they used to be. Hope ya'll are staying with me!
> 
> I also apologize for this chapter. Gonna let you know right now, it's not very good. Twiggzzler did her best and improved it quite a bit, but I was still all sorts of not concentrated while I was writing it initially. The next chapter will be better!
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

"You lost him," Capable repeated flatly.

 

Furiosa nodded. "Cheedo was in a bad position. We had to help her out. They ran when they saw us," she explained, casting a glance at Cheedo as she spoke. Cheedo and Dag were sitting on a couple of the simple black chairs in the station's lobby, huddled together and talking in low voices. Dag and Capable had been waiting for them all night, expecting to finally see Joe in cuffs. They were all disappointed on that count.

 

Max snapped his phone shut and looked at the time. It was already ten forty-five, and Nux wasn't answering the home phone. Max had wanted to let him know he'd be late. Maybe he was asleep—Max had been trying his damnedest to make a daytime creature out of the kid, after all; it could be he was finally getting his sleeping schedule on track. That's what Max told himself.

 

"Did he answer? I want to talk to him," Capable said as Max turned back to the two.

 

Max shook his head. "He's probably sleeping," he justified, and met Capable's skeptical glance with a certainty he didn't have. "He's fine."

 

Just as Capable looked about to retort, Toast stormed out from one of the offices, followed by a few other officers. She was an intimidating figure in uniform in spite of her height, and the fire in her eyes meant she had good news. "We got a lead. Patrol saw the Coupe downtown, tracked him to a residence. He's still there. A Territory Response Group is on the way. I'm going to help with backup," she reported to Furiosa as she headed towards the door. But when Furiosa and Max started after her, she waved them off. "We've got enough."

 

Furiosa grabbed Toast's arm to stop her. "Are you sure?"

 

"We've got enough, Furiosa. I can handle it; I don't need my mommy to come," she snapped, her voice low.

 

Furiosa let her go, and Toast took off to catch up with the others. Max cast a cautious glance at Furiosa, but when she turned back to him, there was a small smile playing on her lips, and Max had the feeling he'd just missed some kind of joke.

 

 

* * *

 

Slit waited in the bedroom a little while longer. When he was satisfied Nux wasn't going anywhere, he went out to the garage to move the Buick that was his current vehicle (they changed cars periodically, never kept one for too long) so Immortan could park his Coupe in the garage. It took him three tries to start, and he made a mental note to figure out what the hell was wrong with it and fix it eventually. Without Nux here, his cars never ran as smoothly. It wasn't that he couldn't fix them, it was just that he never wanted to. He didn't like to spend his free time working on a piece of shit car like Nux did.

 

Finally, he got it backed out just as the Coupe came roaring down the street. The Coupe was going slow, definitely the speed limit, but the engine was loud enough to wake the whole street.

 

Slit parked the Buick by the curb and got out as the Coupe pulled into the garage. Immortan and Rictus were the only two who exited their vehicle. Slit frowned. It was unusual for Immortan to go anywhere without at least a few other War Boys, and Slit could tell he wasn't happy, but there was no way he was this angry about Nux. It was akin to heresy to pry into Immortan's business, but still, Slit wondered what had him so agitated. As he walked towards the garage to let the two in, he folded his hands together in the V8 salute, but Immortan didn't acknowledge it. "Where is he?" he demanded instead.

 

"Inside, Immortan," Slit replied, heading towards the door to the house. He hit the button to lower the garage door on his way.

 

"You left him alone?" Immortan Joe demanded, going ahead of Slit and throwing open the door.

 

"I made sure he wouldn't go nowhere," Slit assured Immortan, following the two inside the house and pointing to the bedroom. The door was still open a little, Slit hadn't bothered to shut it all the way.

 

Rictus and Slit trailed Immortan into the room, and it was a tight fit. The bed took up most of the space in the small bedroom, so Slit ended up at the foot of the bed, feeling like a dwarf standing next to Rictus.

 

Nux was still lying on his side, his face half-buried in the pillow. His breathing was shallow and rough, and Slit felt a stab of anxiety when Immortan pushed Nux's shoulder and he rolled limply onto his back. Were his lips blue?

 

"What did you give him?" Immortan barked, startling Slit out of his evaluation of Nux. He didn't sound pleased.

 

"Uh...heroin," Slit admitted, shrinking a little at the withering glare Immortan cast him.

 

"How am I supposed to talk to him like this?" he growled, but he was already looking at Nux again and didn't seem to be expecting an answer. He reached up to yank the gag out of Nux's mouth—it took a little effort, and if Nux had been lucid it might have hurt, but the gag ripped and stretched enough that Immortan could push the fabric down underneath Nux's jaw, now just a piece of t-shirt tied loosely around his neck. But Nux's eyelids fluttered, then opened with considerable effort, and Slit felt the cold grip of fear on his chest ease a little. If he was awake, he'd be fine.

 

Immortan saw his opportunity and leaned close to Nux, grabbing his jaw to turn his head. Slit saw a glint of familiarity and warmth in Nux's eyes when he finally focused on Immortan, who must have seen it as well. His grip softened somewhat. "Are you ready to come back to Daddy?"

 

"Daddy," Nux repeated, his voice slurred. He blinked and his eyes flickered, started to close again. Immortan shook him a little.

 

"No, look at me. What have you told them? What do they know?" Immortan pressed. Nux whined something unintelligible and shook his head, trying to pull back from Immortan.

 

Immortan released him, letting Nux fall back onto the bed, and stood up straight. "Mediocre," he scoffed, shifting his glare to Slit. He looked about to speak.

 

A pounding at the front door made all three turn.

 

"Police, open the door!"

 

Slit immediately lunged for the other side of the bed and reached underneath it to drag out his tommy gun. He loaded it and got back to his feet just as the sound of splintering wood signalled the cops' entrance. Immortan and Rictus had already disappeared from the room. Slit quietly made his way around the bed while listening to the sound of booted feet in the living room. He couldn't tell how many—a lot. He waited until they shouted "Clear!" for the living room, and counted the footsteps until they reached the hallway. He raised the tommy gun and rounded the corner to face them.

 

He watched two cops drop to the floor when he opened up fire, and that was when he took off. It was a Territory Response Group, which meant he was outmanned and considerably outgunned. Without Immortan around to protect, there was really no reason for him to be there either. That wouldn't be any glorified death; it would be more like suicide than sacrifice.

 

There was a door in the back of the house that thankfully looked a lot like a closet. Slit was able to escape through it to the back yard as the police clamored over the two bodies Slit had left in the hallway. He jumped the short fence and tore out across his neighbor's backyard as stealthily as possible, a destination already in mind. He didn't know where Immortan and Rictus had gone. They were probably a ways away by now, but if he went to another Boy's house, he was sure he'd be able to get in touch with them again.

 

 

* * *

 

Once Max and Furiosa finished all their paperwork for the night, they were finally let off duty. Almost everyone who wasn't already working was on-call, though, due to the situation with Immortan, which meant Max probably wasn't going to sleep much. He generally slept even worse when he was on call—he was on edge, every little noise would wake him up, expecting to see his phone lit up and buzzing noisily on his sidetable.

 

He had just turned over his gear and changed when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out, expecting his home phone number on the little screen. He was a little puzzled but mostly disappointed when he saw Toast's name. He flipped it open nevertheless and grunted in lieu of hello.

 

"Max. Uh," there was an uncharacteristic pause and Max frowned. "Nux is at the hospital. Capable's already on her way. Thought you should know," she finished, quick and short.

 

"The hospital? Why?" And why the hell was Toast calling him about it? Wasn't she supposed to be working?"

 

"Listen, it's...they'll explain when you get there. I'm about to head back to the station. We got Joe," she said, and the line went dead.

 

Max muttered a curse as he snapped his phone shut and hurried out to his car. He couldn't imagine what Nux could have done to land himself in the hospital. Maybe he'd hurt himself working on the Oldsmobile. Or maybe he was better at hide and seek than Max was. But Max had searched the house, moved anything that wasn't bolted down, torn everything apart. There was no way Nux was keeping cocaine there. He fumbled with his keys at the car door and finally jammed the right one in the lock to yank the door open.

 

The hospital wasn't too far from the station, but he managed to nearly hit the only two other cars on the road at that time of night (and one that was parked too close to the space he took at the hospital). If he ever had to see the inside of this place again, it would be too soon, he decided as he threw the door open, already calling Capable. It got to the third ring before he started to wonder if she was going to ignore the call, when she picked up. "What room?" he asked before she could speak.

 

"Two thirteen." The line went dead again. He took the stairs—elevators were too slow, and Max didn't think he could stand still if his life depended on it.

 

The first thing he noticed when he got to the room was that Nux looked deathly pale. The second thing he noticed was Capable's glare. "What happened?" he asked, nearly a whisper, stepping closer, gingerly, slowly now.

 

"Overdose," Capable replied, her gaze softening when she looked down to Nux. She was sitting in one of the chairs, pulled up close to the side of the bed. "They gave him naloxone. Said he should be fine."

 

"Naloxone? That's for--"

 

"Heroin. I know," Capable sighed. "He was at Slit's house."

 

"The hell was he doing there?" Max pulled up another chair on the other side of the bed and sat down heavily, stifling a groan. He slowly stretched out his bad leg.

 

Capable's eyes snapped to him. "How should I know? He was supposed to be at your house."

 

Max stared at her silently.

 

She huffed a sigh and put her head in her hands, rubbed her face. When she picked her head up again, she looked to be on the verge of tears. Max hadn't ever seen her cry. He looked away.

 

"We were supposed to keep him safe," she said flatly.

 

Max gave a single, jerking nod in agreement. Where were you, Max?

 

Capable was silent for a few moments. Max watched her reach up and brush the back of her forefinger over Nux's scarred lips. "He was tied up, and he had bruises consistent with..." she halted that train of thought and pulled her hand away again. "I let them run a rape kit."

 

Again, Max just nodded. There wasn't much to say to that; he couldn't say he was particularly surprised, but part of him wondered if it was rape at all. Or how they could determine whether it was rape. Nux obviously had a rather complex relationship with the idea of consent, and Max had the feeling a straight answer from him wouldn't be forthcoming. They'd just have to work on that. But he put that on a backburner.

 

"Is he in custody?"

 

"Joe? Yeah," Capable nodded a little, looking at him curiously.

 

"No, Slit."

 

Capable's expression fell. "No. They lost him."

 

Max took a deep breath, and pushed it out through his teeth. He had the feeling that was going to come back to bite them in the ass.

 

Once, he suggested to Capable that she should go home to get some sleep for the night. If looks could kill he wouldn't have stood a chance against hers, but he survived the rest of the night by mostly keeping his trap shut. The rest of the night's conversations were mostly Capable talking, but the majority of the night passed in an impromptu dozing schedule in which Max was pretty sure one of them was awake at any given time.

 

It was in the early morning hours, the sky just beginning to lighten from the yet to rise sun through the hospital window, when he woke from a particularly restful catnap to see Nux laying on his side, facing Capable. She was asleep as well. Apparently, the plan wasn't as foolproof as he'd thought. When he sat up to pull himself out of the slump he'd fallen into, the chair squeaked and Nux rolled back onto his back, already wide awake. "Morning," he grinned.

 

Max sighed and scrubbed his hand over his head, then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The kid was half-dead and grinning like the Cheshire cat. How he could muster up enthusiasm after the night he must have had was a mystery. "How you feelin'?" Max asked.

 

Nux shrugged and settled on his side again, facing Max now. "Sore," he said, reaching up to brush his fingertips over the cut on his temple, ringed by a big, dark bruise. He dropped his hand and tucked it underneath his cheek instead. "What happened?" he asked, his smile fading.

 

Max settled back in his seat and shrugged. "You tell me. How'd you end up at Slit's?"

 

Nux dropped his eyes and moved his hand to tug at a string on the stitching of the pillowcase. He could never sit still. "I walked there," he finally admitted, gathering his courage to look defiantly at Max.

 

Max blinked, surprised. "You walked there? What the hell for, I told you to stay at the house!" he hissed, careful to keep his voice low so Capable wouldn't wake. She was a heavy sleeper, but if he started yelling he was sure she'd notice.

 

"I wanted to talk to him," Nux said petulantly, and shifted to sit up, suddenly not tired.

 

"Talk to him about what? Heroin?"

 

"No," Nux snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the pillows. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he stared resolutely at the wall, scarred lips now set in a firm line.

 

Max sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to scare away the headache that was building. Patience wasn't really his strong suit, that was Capable's forte, but he'd have to learn how to handle Nux at some point. At least the kid had the good sense not to start screaming like he sometimes would when he got mad.

 

So he let the silence wear on for a few minutes, rubbing his hands together and looking at them. When he finally raised his head to speak again, Nux was watching him with something like trepidation in his eyes. Nux shook his head a little and unfolded his arms to settle his hands in his lap and stare at them. "I thought I could convince him to come with me. So we could both testify. I mean, I...I miss him, and I know we did some stupid shit but I don't want him to go to prison and I thought I could help him." Nux scoffed and waved his hand. "It was stupid. I was stupid."

 

Max stood up and reached out to nudge Nux's legs with his hand, pushing them over a little. He sat on the space that made on the edge of the bed and brought his hand up to brush over the top of Nux's head affectionately, then dropped his hand to put his arm around Nux's shoulders and pull him into a sideways hug. "Wasn't stupid. You're just...you're not like them."

 

Nux settled his forehead against Max's shoulder and sighed. "What am I, if I'm not like them?"

 

"Well, you can, you know," Max shrugged a little. "You can be what you want to be. What do you want to be?"

 

Nux shrugged, and for a moment that was all Max got. Then, finally, Nux picked his head up to look at Max. "I only ever wanted to be a War Boy. I don't wanna be that anymore, but...I don't know."

 

Max didn't realize how close they were until he turned his head to look at Nux straight on, their noses almost touching. He didn't pull away, but he cleared his throat, feeling oddly nervous. "Well. We'll figure it out," he assured Nux.

 

Nux nodded a little and smiled again—not one of his big, flashy grins, but a small honest-to-God smile. "Alright."

 

Max nodded. He didn't look away, and neither did Nux. For a moment, the both of them sat still, and Max felt the beginnings of a strange tension, familiar somehow, but unusual. Like he'd felt the same way once, a long time ago, but he couldn't recall why or what it meant. Nux's smile remained and it was calming, but he needed to stop looking at those lips.

 

"Nux!"

 

Max nearly leaped out of his skin at Capable's exclamation, and he did jump off the bed. When he turned to face them Nux was looking at him, his brow furrowed in confusion, but Capable hardly seemed to notice. Max shook his head to clear it as Capable caught Nux's attention, but he could hardly hear the two chat over the sudden rushing in his ears. He mumbled something about getting coffee, and as he left, trying to ignore Nux's cautious glance, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling he'd just been stopped from doing something very, very stupid.


	11. Crossing the Rubicon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already?! Yes, indeed, my lovely readers!
> 
> This one's better than the last, if I do say so myself. Hope you enjoy! Be expecting the next chapter to come about a week from now.

Max leaned back in his recliner and hefted a sigh. Capable and Toast had just left for the night, after having comandeered his kitchen and taken over for dinner. Not just dinner—they'd made enough to last him and Nux a week, even with the way the kid ate. He was sure they'd done that on purpose. He was also sure they'd brought his favorite whiskey on purpose. When he closed his eyes, he felt like he was drifting. He hadn't had a good drink in a while and it was nice to relax.

 

It was Nux's first night home from the hospital, and they'd done an impromptu dinner in lieu of celebration of some sort. Furiosa was busy, with what, she hadn't specified. Dag and Cheedo were both working and...well, that was it, now. It was their first dinner together since Angharad was gone. With so few of them there, it was easy to pretend she was busy, too, working perhaps, or taking Pax somewhere. Not the truth, but it was nice to pretend everything was alright for a few moments.

 

A clattering in the kitchen brought him to his feet and he walked stiffly back down the hall to see what was going on. He found Nux at the sink, cursing under his breath as he dug around in the garbage disposal. Max grunted and went to pull Nux's hand out, glancing anxiously at the switch near the sink, when Nux gave a triumphant laugh and pulled out a fork. "Got it," he said to Max, showing him the fork with a grin, then put it underneath the stream of water coming from the faucet to wash it off.

 

Max just shook his head and leaned against the counter, still feeling the pleasant haze of alcohol in his system, and watched as Nux finished up the last few dishes and put them away in the dishwasher. He turned around to grab a couple of the spices Toast had brought out and put them back in the cupboard, and when he turned around again, a spatter of water droplets in his face made him flinch.

 

Nux laughed at his expression, dropping his wet hand to wipe it off on his pants. Max didn't even wipe the water off his face. Instead, he lunged for the faucet to grab the extension on the end of it. He aimed it at Nux, but he ended up getting more water on the floor than anywhere else. Regardless, Nux laughed and rushed in to try and wrestle it away. In the ensuing struggle, both of them ended up soaking wet and, in the end, dropped the extension anyway when Max managed to get a hold of both of Nux's wrists after he pried it out of the kid's hands. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd crowded Nux to a corner on the other side of the kitchen, away from the sink and the water fight. Nux was laughing still, a little breathless from their psuedo-fight. Max's grin faded slowly as he watched Nux until the other stopped laughing and met Max's gaze with his huge, ocean-blue eyes. Max's eyes drifted down to the scarred, chapped lips still caught in a crooked half-grin and he wondered what they'd feel like. How they'd taste. He forgot himself, and leaned close.

 

At first, it was just a press of lips. Nux, stunned, hardly responded until Max opened his mouth a little to tease his tongue over the ridged texture of Nux's bottom lip. Then, abruptly, Nux surged forward, opened his mouth to tangle his tongue with Max's. He yanked his hands out of Max's loose grip on his wrists to grab at Max's sides, nipping hard enough on his lip to be almost painful. It felt good. Max slid one hand up to grasp the back of Nux's neck and his fingers brushed over the ridges of another scar there. A brand, Joe's own mark on Nux that would never disappear.

 

"Max?"

 

He tore away from Nux, taking a few quick steps back and turning to look towards the hall. He hadn't even heard the door open, but sure enough, following Capable's voice was a pair of heeled footsteps clicking down the hardwood hallway. When she appeared at the doorway, she paused and looked from Max to Nux, and back, raising an eyebrow at their wet state. "Everything alright?"

 

Max grunted and nodded once. "Forget somethin'?"

 

"Yeah, I left my pan in here," she said, moving between Max and Nux to go to the sink. Max cast a glance at Nux, but the kid's eyes were on Capable as he leaned casually against the wall. Max felt like he was losing his mind. What had he been thinking? That might very well be the stupidest thing he's done since...well, ever.

 

Capable checked the sink, then opened the dishwasher and hummed. "Oh, you didn't have to wash it," she chided lightly, taking it out and turning to face Max. He shook his head a little and gestured to Nux without looking at him. "Oh," Capable said, stepping over to Nux. "Ta," she added, giving him a one-armed hug. Nux grinned and hugged her back, squeezing her so tight she squeaked and pushed at his shoulders. "Okay, I get it! You're strong! Let go 'a me!" she laughed, squirming until Nux let her go. "Toast is waiting in the car, I've gotta go. I'll see you later this week," she said, finally pulling away. "Bye, Max," she said, casting him another curious, lingering glance.

 

Max nodded and waved a little in response. He watched as she disappeared back into the hallway, but he didn't move, listening intently until he heard the front door open and slam shut again. He blew out a breath of air he didn't realize he'd been holding and turned around just in time to catch sight of Nux stalking closer to him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

 

Max put his arm out to keep Nux from getting closer and shook his head. "No, Nux that was...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he said, edging towards the hallway. The kitchen felt suddenly too small.

 

But Nux followed him anyway. "Why not?"

 

"I...it's not right. It was inappropriate," he said, heading towards the living room. He could hear Nux's heavy footfalls right behind him.

 

"But you wanted to, right?"

 

Once he got to the living room, Nux still hot on his heels, Max decided running wouldn't work. Nux would just continue to follow him. So he sat on the couch, dropping his head to rub his hands over his face. When he looked up again, Nux was standing in front of him, frowning a little with his hands on his hips, still staring at Max expectantly. "It doesn't matter if I wanted to, Nux. I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not..." he waved his hand noncomittally. "Not that."

 

Nux huffed and went to sit next to him, settling close so their legs were touching. "You don't like me?"

 

"It's not that simple, Nux." Max leaned back on the couch and cut a sideways glance at Nux, but looked away quickly again. Now that he'd done it once already, he just wanted to kiss those lips again, feel those fingers clutching at his shirt, dragging him closer. He couldn't blame the alcohol for wanting it, but he could a little for having acted on it. But as he was sobering up, he was running out of excuses.

 

Nux was uncharacteristically silent for a moment. Then, as Max was studying the black screen of the TV, he felt a pair of warm, rough lips brush over the side of his neck. "I'm not a little kid," Nux muttered into his skin, and then, as if to prove his point, scraped his teeth over a patch of skin and sucked hard. Max stifled a groan and turned to face Nux, effectively pulling away from the hickey-in-progress. "None of that," he said gruffly, reaching up to cup the side of Nux's face. He paused to brush his thumb over Nux's lips, and Nux chuckled a little. Nux had said he wasn't a little kid, but it was Max who felt like like a giddy teenager, discovering the excitement of touch all over again. It had been so long. What the hell was he doing?

 

Nux's hand crept up to tease at the hem of Max's shirt as he leaned close to press his lips to Max's again. It was sloppy, aggressive and overeager until Max managed to take control of the kiss. He slowed it down, shifting to lay back on the couch when Nux pressed close to him. The couch was a little small for the two of them, but Nux managed to climb on top of him, his knees planted on either side of Max's hips. His hands slid underneath Max's shirt to paw at his sides and Max groaned into the kiss as he felt short nails dig into his skin. Nux ground his hips down against Max's eagerly, and already Max could feel the other's erection press into his leg even through the layers of their jeans and boxers. He was bold, but clumsy, so Max dropped his hands down to grasp the boy's hips and guide him to slower, more even pace, his thumbs rubbing slowly over Nux's prominent hipbones underneath his shirt. Surprisingly, Nux let Max take the lead, and made a low noise in his throat when Max rolled his hips up to meet the other's grinding.

 

For a little while, the gentle pace was satisfactory for Nux. But when he nipped hard at Max's lip and broke away from the kiss to bite and suck lightly along Max's jaw, down to his neck, Max knew it couldn't last much longer. Sure enough, Nux dropped his hands down to pluck impatiently at Max's belt. Max grunted and shook his head a little. "No, Nux," he murmured, reaching down to lay a hand over Nux's to stop him. But Nux growled into his skin, biting down hard on his collarbone, and yanked harder. He managed to tug the belt's tongue hard enough to undo it, but before he could get any farther, Max grabbed his wrists firmly and pulled his hands away, sitting up. Nux was light as a fucking feather; it was no difficult thing to push the boy back and off of him so they were both sitting up again, facing each other. "Hey, didn't we talk about this? I said no, right? That means you have to stop," he said evenly.

 

Nux scowled and jerked his hands out of Max's grasp. "That's a lie. It doesn't work; you just made it up," he snapped.

 

Max sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. Somehow, he'd known they were going to have this conversation again. "I didn't make it up. That's how it's supposed to be--"

 

"It doesn't matter how it's supposed to be!" Nux snarled and jumped to his feet. He started to pace in the small living room, and Max just watched him. "Things don't go how they're supposed to go, Max, they never do! You can't tell me that's how it's supposed to be when it doesn't actually happen like that, that doesn't make any fucking sense!"

 

Max got to his feet as Nux's voice steadily rose to a shout. He stepped in front of the kid, abruptly cutting off his pacing, and mimicked Capable—reached up to put his hand on Nux's shoulder, squeezed it lightly. For a minute, it looked touch and go on whether Nux would relax or just punch him in the face, but finally Nux deflated and shook his head. Max reached up with his other hand and ruffled it over Nux's shaved head, and nudged him back towards the couch. "C'mon, sit back down, huh?"

 

Nux nodded and went back to where he'd been sitting, collapsing and crossing his arms over his chest, apparently resolved to pouting. Max settled next to him and put his arm around the other's skinny shoulders to pull him closer and press a kiss to his temple. He knew he needed to explain more, explain it better, but for a moment he was silent as he gathered his thoughts. "It's just...when you care about someone, you want to, you know... you want to make them happy. You don't want to do something to them that they don't want."

 

For a few seconds, it was radio silence. Nux's leg bounced a little as he tapped his foot on the floor, filled with nervous energy even now but keeping himself mostly still somehow. "So why did Slit not stop when I told him? I said it just like you did that time, and he didn't listen."

 

Max cringed as a stab of guilt tore through him. It was irrational—he hadn't done anything wrong, but still he felt he'd somehow betrayed Nux. He was the one who told him, you have to stop when someone says stop. And then Nux turns around and tries to use it and gets raped. Max had decided a long time ago that the world was an unfair place, but why did it have to be so goddamn cruel on top of that? When he looked at it like that, it was a little easier to see why Nux thought he was lying. "Because...some people..." Max struggled. Where was Capable when you needed her? He gave up. He'd never be any good at pussyfooting around things. "Because Slit's a bastard."

 

Nux shifted and for a moment Max thought he was going to jump to the defense of his rapist. Instead, he resettled and chewed on that thought for a moment. "Yeah. Okay." He paused. "Does that make me a bastard, too?" he asked, and Max could hear the grin in his voice.

 

Max chuckled and shrugged. "Not as bad as Slit. But you gotta stop pushing it, or I'm gonna call this whole thing off, got it?"

 

Nux nodded and twisted his head to look at Max shrewdly. "That mean I can tell you to stop whenever I want, too?"

 

"Whenever you want, for whatever reason. Just say the word," he promised, rubbing the other's shoulder.

 

Nux settled back down, apparently satisfied with that answer, and dropped his head onto Max's shoulder. "So...no sex tonight?"

 

Max sat up enough to grab the remote, then leaned back again. "Nope," he grunted. "TV."

 

Nux muttered something Max couldn't make out and pulled his feet up onto the couch, curling up. He cycled through a few different fidgeting habits, tapping his fingers and feet and shifting positions a few times like a dog circling its bed. Finally he settled for chewing on his fingernails, and Max had neither the heart nor the patience to make him stop. Forcing the kid to sit absolutely still would be some form of torture, Max was sure, and he wondered how Nux ever fell asleep, always moving around like that. Eventually, the clacking sounds from teeth against nails stopped, and a moment later his hand fell limply on top of Max's leg. He turned the sound on the TV down, but otherwise didn't move.

 

It felt nice. Sitting in his home, on his couch, watching TV with someone leaning against his side. But not for the first time that night, he wondered what the fuck he thought he was doing.

 

For starters, Nux was a displaced minor criminal with a record jacket of offenses thick enough to be a short novel. On top of that, Max was supposed to be his caretaker, not his boyfriend. And all that didn't even begin to compare to the complete moral bankruptcy it takes to even consider taking advantage of a sixteen-or-seventeen-year-old kid who barely understood consent, who had been molested repeatedly by his older roommate slash partner-in-crime, and maybe others, for God knew how long.

 

But Nux...was Nux. After only a few weeks of living with him, Max already knew he was irrevocably attached to the kid. In some ways, he seemed older than he was, which Max knew was no excuse, but the fact was, Nux had seen and done a lot more than most his age, and it had had an affect on him.

 

Maybe Nux was just grasping at straws—his whole life had been yanked out from underneath him like a rug, and he craved something familiar, something that made him feel good when he spent so much of his time feeling bad, between quitting cocaine and leaving the people he'd known as family. Could be Max was just a stand-in, a quick-fix. Max found the thought didn't hurt him too much. If it was going to be someone, it might as well be him—he didn't like the thought of Nux wandering out and making friends with a stranger who might just be the fire in comparison to the frying pan that Nux had just escaped. Joe had been arrested. The trial date would come soon enough, and after that Nux would be free to go wherever he pleased. Max guessed the kid would move somewhere else, somewhere far off to avoid staying around any of the War Boys who didn't get snatched up by the cops in the following weeks. Since his record would be expunged and he was old enough, he'd be eligible to become an emancipated minor.

 

The thought of coming home to a mostly empty house (besides the cat, of course) again was like a stab in the gut, but he promised himself right then that if Nux wanted to leave, Max would help him pack. Just for once, Nux needed someone else to help look out for him and Max would be damned if he became an obstacle for Nux making a better life for himself.

 

In any case, this couldn't last long. Max looked down at Nux, then lifted his hand to trace the slowly scarring gash on Nux's cheek with his fingertip. Nux twitched and huffed, and Max dropped his hand back to Nux's shoulder with a little smile. It would be alright. Whatever he was doing with Nux, it would just be an ill-advised chapter in his life. Surely it wouldn't kill either of them to be happy, just for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Underage tag was added because Australian laws prohibit caretakers from engaging sexually with any charge under the age of 18.


	12. Back to Haunt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks be to the lovely Twiggzzler for beta-ing!

"Max... Max!"

 

In the dark room, the first thing Max saw when he cracked open his eyes was the green numbers on his clock radio, reading 4:18 AM. Almost forty-five minutes before he had to be up to get ready and get to work on time. Great. He'd spent the better part of three weeks trying to get Nux to wake up at a decent time in the morning, and now the kid wanted to go all early bird on him.

 

He grunted wordlessly in acknowledgement as Nux hissed his name again. It would have made him more anxious if Nux had sounded worried, but the kid was just terrible at hiding it when he was up to something, and he had that tone that told Max he was definitely up to something. Sure enough, as soon as he rolled onto his back to face the kid, he got a lapful of skinny, excited teenager. Well, at least he'd taken the whole, 'don't molest me while I'm sleeping,' speech to heart. Small victories.

 

Still, Max couldn't complain too much. Or at all, he revised, as he suddenly became aware of his morning wood when Nux nudged one of his legs in between Max's, sending a spark of pleasure up his spine. Max groaned and slid his hands down Nux's sides, then around his back to grab his ass, only mildly surprised to find Nux had taken the liberty of ditching his boxers already. He ground up against the other, only the thin fabric of his own underwear separating their skin. Nux moaned against his neck and dug his nails into Max's chest, dragging downwards and leaving a pleasantly stinging trail in the wake of the scratches.

 

Max shifted to roll them over, but Nux growled and resisted, grabbing Max's shoulder to pin him against the bed again. Max had always been a fan of rough play in the bedroom, but sometimes he couldn't tell whether Nux was trying to fuck him or fight him, and as much as Max wanted to play that game (and he did, with the way Nux could work him up), he was determined to show the kid what gentle meant. So instead of throwing him onto his back on the bed, Max turned his head to catch Nux's lips in a deep, long kiss and moved one hand to smooth up and down the other's side. He grasped Nux's hip with his other hand and rolled his hips up languidly, dragging a moan from the other. Once he decided he'd gotten Nux good and distracted, he tried again to roll over. Nux tensed, but Max broke the kiss to shush him, and Nux reluctantly shifted to lay on his back, letting Max take the lead. Max hid his grin against Nux's jaw, kissing along it as he dropped one hand to lazily palm the other's cock, already dripping precum. He paused when he reached Nux's ear and scraped his teeth lightly over the lobe. "Relax," he rumbled, pressing another kiss to the sensitive spot just below. Nux's shiver was response enough.

 

With a low hum, Max shifted to settle between Nux's legs, still stroking him teasingly with one hand, the other braced on the bed as he continued to kiss and nip a path down Nux's neck, over his prominent collarbones, down his chest. He detoured once he reached the raised scar, following the stark, straight lines until his lips brushed over a nipple. Nux gasped, and Max felt the other's hand grasp at his shoulder when he scraped his teeth over the tight nub of skin. He paused there, kissing and nipping until Nux was panting and writhing underneath him, his hips jerking up into Max's light touch. Finally, he showed some mercy and detached his lips with a wet pop, and traced the lines of the V8 map with his tongue and teeth, down and down. He paused again at Nux's hip, scraping his teeth over the ridge of the bone jutting up there, then brushed his stubbled cheek against the soft skin just beside his straining cock. Nux whimpered, and when Max glanced up at him he was met with a pair of wide, blue eyes, hazy with lust but tainted with something else, something like fear. Max hummed again and grasped Nux's cock more firmly, just at the base, shifted to lap teasingly at the head. "Keep going?" he asked.

 

Nux made a strangled noise that was halfway between a word and a moan, then nodded quickly when Max continued to stare at him. "Yeah, yeah," he finally gasped, panting already. His hand slid from Max's shoulder to the back of his head, scratching almost curiously at the short hair there.

 

Settling one hand on Nux's hip, Max turned his focus back to his task. This time, he wrapped his lips around the tip, his tongue darting out to tease the slit before he took the head into his mouth and sucked. Nux jerked, the muscles in his stomach twitching, and his free hand flew to his mouth to muffle a cry. Max took a little more into his mouth, going slow—it had been a long time since he'd done this. He wasn't sure if it was like riding a bike, but he got his answer once he was about halfway down, and Nux's hand tightened on the back of his head as his hips jerked up, thrusting the rest of his length into Max's throat and choking him. Not like riding a bike. Max grabbed Nux's hip and pushed him down flat on the bed, his other hand coming up to slap the other's thigh hard enough to sting—he wasn't sure which convinced Nux to let up on his grip on Max's head, but he didn't much care, either. He pulled back quickly and glared up at Nux. "Don't. Don't do that," he growled, keeping his grip on Nux's side.

 

"Sorry," Nux said earnestly, breathlessly, his fingers combing lightly through Max's hair as though in apology.

 

Max raised his eyebrow skeptically. "You gonna behave?"

 

Nux nodded quickly. "Yes, I'll behave. Please, Max," he whined, writhing impatiently on the sheets.

 

Max paused, watching him; he found he sort of liked the begging. But he filed that thought away for later. They didn't have time to play around with new ideas right now, and he didn't actually want to leave Nux hanging. So, he nodded a little and leaned down to lick a long stripe up the underside of Nux's cock, then moved his hand back to grasp the base again and guided the length into his mouth again, this time keeping a tighter grasp on Nux's hip. He took as much as he could, about three quarters of the full length, moving slow at first. Nux made a few jerky, abortive thrusts, while bitten-back, desperate little noises fell from his lips that made Max's half-forgotten arousal spike in his belly, but Nux's hand had dropped to scratch at Max's shoulder instead of his head, and the other was firmly twisted in the sheets. He began to bob his head, gaining speed with his confidence and pausing every so often to suck hard at the head or lap at the tip of Nux's throbbing length. Occasionally, though, his focus drifted and he glanced up to watch Nux arch his back, watch him toss his head back against the pillow and moan when Max sucked just a little harder. It was intoxicating. He'd forgotten how good it felt to make someone else feel like that, to feel like that himself.

 

But it didn't last very long. It usually didn't with Nux, although he had a frankly astounding refractory period. Teenage libido. Recalling how Nux had reacted earlier, Max chanced detaching his hand from Nux's hip to slide it up the other's abdomen to brush over a nipple, then pinch it lightly—and that was it. Nux gasped and clawed at Max's back, his hips jumping up a little, but Max was ready  for that. He pulled back a little, kept his lips firmly around the head and swallowed the other's cum.

 

When Nux pushed weakly at his shoulder, he got the message and pulled away, sitting up to look down at Nux, sprawled out over the bed, limp and sated watching him through half-lidded eyes. Max crawled over him to press a kiss to his scarred lips, which Nux returned lazily. Max broke the kiss and sucked in a sharp breath when he felt warm fingertips pull at the band of his boxers, and a low groan escaped him as the long-fingered hand wrapped around his own neglected cock. His hips rocked eagerly into the friction as Nux began to stroke, slowly at first, then gradually faster, and Max pressed his forehead into the other's shoulder, panting raggedly. He was already close and Nux was clever with his hands, squeezing and stroking in just the right places that drove Max crazy. When Nux paused to swipe his thumb over the head, Max shuddered and it only took one more stroke before he came with a groan, pressing close to Nux so their bodies were flush, his hands grasping at Nux's sides.

 

As his climax faded, leaving him feeling heavy and warm, Max tilted his head to press a kiss to Nux's chest, then reluctantly rolled onto his side, aware that he was probably crushing the kid. He was getting taller by the day it seemed, but he didn't seem to be growing in any other direction, no matter how much Max made him eat.

 

They laid in silence like that for a few minutes, letting their breathing slow down as Max, his eyes only half-open, idly ran his hand up and down Nux's side, his arm lying heavily across the other's abdomen. Finally, though, he roused himself enough to pick his head up from where he'd dropped it onto Nux's shoulder and look at the clock, and he sighed and sat up. He was about to speak, but when he looked down at Nux, the words stuck in his throat. He was still lying on his back, gangly limbs spread out haphazardly over the bed and his lower stomach was messy with Max's half-dried semen, but he was staring up at Max like Max himself had put the damn sun in the sky. Max couldn't put a name on the feeling that hit him, but it felt like a punch in the gut and he looked away quickly, raising a hand to rub over his face, then through his hair. He managed to gather enough courage to look down at Nux again. "I, uh, need to get going. Why don't you get a little more sleep?" he suggested, his voice rough with sex and the lingering dregs of his own sleep, then leaned down to press a quick, chaste kiss to Nux's lips. Anything more might convince him to call in sick.

 

Nux hummed an agreement and when Max stood up, he rolled over onto his stomach, and Max couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Wash those sheets when you get up," he suggested, pushing his boxers all the way down and stepping out of them before he headed for the shower.

 

When he came back out again, Nux had spread out over the entire bed, snoring into a pillow, and had one arm wrapped tightly around another pillow—Max's. Quietly, quickly, Max got ready and was out the door early. He still had a strange feeling in his gut. It made him want desperately to leave the house, but as soon as he was on the road, his mind wandered back to his bed. It was going to be another long day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was close to ten when Nux finally dragged himself out of bed. It was a pretty good improvement, he thought; he used to sleep until close to two in the afternoon, but for some reason Max thought it was important to get up every day before noon. If Max thought he'd get up before nine, though, he was barking up the wrong tree.

 

He showered first, and put on a pair of sweatpants to go downstairs and eat, settling on the couch to watch TV with a hot Tupperware container of the chicken pasta Capable and Toast had made almost a week ago. It was still good. He liked to watch the How It's Made shows—when he'd lived with Slit, they'd only had some basic cable, but Max had hundreds of channels. More than anyone actually watched, Nux was sure. It seemed like all Max watched was the weather and the news.

 

An hour later, he got up to wash the now-empty Tupperware and go upstairs to get the sheets so he could wash them. He smiled as he thought about that morning and yanked the sheets off the bed and took off the pillowcases. It was nice, living with Max. Max was nice. Nux could tell he felt guilty about fooling around with him, but Nux didn't really understand that. Actually, he didn't understand a lot of things about this new life he'd started. He didn't understand how he felt about Max, because he'd never been with someone like he was with Max. Nux knew that other people, outsiders, people who weren't War Boys, had relationships like boyfriends or girlfriends or husbands or, like Immortan, wives. War Boys only had each other. He thought he loved Slit. Slit was his Brother, and sometimes they scrapped and fought and argued, but Slit had always been there. Max hadn't—Slit would be the first to point that out, if he was here. Max had just come into his life, and he was an outsider. But wasn't Nux an outsider, now, too? And Max wasn't mean, wasn't volatile. Max didn't hit him, didn't make him do things he didn't want to do (except get up early in the morning and go to bed before midnight). Even the things Max made him do, like housework and eating consistently and quitting cocaine, Nux knew they were good for him. He was thinking about life, now, instead of the next opportunity he'd have to get himself killed.

 

No, he didn't get a whole lot about how he felt, or about how his new life was going. But he knew he liked it. He knew it was better.

 

The washer and dryer were in the basement, so he compacted the sheets as much as he could in his arms and went down the stairs, keeping his eyes on the ground so he wouldn't miss a step and somersault the rest of the way. When he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs to head towards the basement stairs, he was still craning his next to keep an eye on the floor from around his armful.

 

"Doing his bitchwork now, are you?"

 

Nux looked up to see Slit standing at the end of the hall, a pistol leveled on Nux. He froze. A tense moment passed that felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds.

 

All at once, Nux dropped the sheets and darted for the staircase as a shot rang out. He grabbed the handrail and swung around, took the steps several at a time. He didn't think about where he was running, but he ended up in the master bedroom, and he could hear Slit stomping up the stairs, laughing. Nux had made a mistake going upstairs. Just like in a bad horror movie. He was trapped. He slammed the door and switched the lock, but it was flimsy. Slit could kick it open, Nux had seen him do it before. Sure enough, after a few doors opened and slammed shut again, there was a pounding on the door. "Come on out, Nux... It'll only hurt for a second!" Slit called through the door, cackling.

 

Nux almost couldn't hear him over the sound of his own heart thumping in his chest. He pressed himself against the wall close to the door, trying to control his breathing, waiting. It was silent for a second, then it came. Thud. The first kick; something cracked. Nux jumped in spite of himself. Thud. Another crack. Nux sucked in a deep breath and pushed it out. On the third kick, the door flew open, and Nux was ready.

 

Sure enough, Slit's firing hand and, therefore, the pistol, was the first thing in the door. Nux grabbed his arm. Slit snarled and tried to yank it back, but Nux managed to hold on, keeping the pistol pointed away from himself. Slit changed tactics and shoved him backwards until Nux's back hit the dresser next to the window on the other side of the room. His face was close to Nux's, both their arms trapped between them as Slit used his weight to pin Nux against the dresser, and he was grinning madly. Nux had seen that look before. Slit was high, and killing mad. Nux had never been more afraid of him.

 

With his free hand, Slit reached up to grab Nux's throat, and leaned enough of his weight off to try and get his gun hand free again. But Nux braced himself against the dresser and managed to shove Slit back a little more. Slit yanked his arm, but Nux held on and stumbled to the side, then shoved Slit again, aiming to get him against the wall since they'd turned around with the force of Slit's pull against his grip.

 

Slit yanked back again, and again Nux shoved him. But Slit's back didn't hit the wall. The window was a little wider than his shoulders, and the bottom of the pane was about level with the back of his thighs. The glass shattered when Slit's back hit it. He lost his grip on Nux's throat, but Nux almost fell out with him, still grasping his arm. Nux got low to try and pull back, but Slit was heavy, and Nux was dragged towards the window anyway. Nux’s stomach caught on the edge of the pane, jagged glass cut into his middle. Slit's wrist slipped out of his hand. It was a straight fall from the window to the concrete driveway. Nux could hear the crack of breaking bones when Slit hit the ground, shoulders first.


	13. Dead End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. I know I said this last time but the following chapters should be coming on time! For some reason I struggled with this one quite a bit.
> 
> Next chapter is already just about done, so I'll post that one early (sometime before the weekend) since y'all have been so patient with my erratic updates.
> 
> As always thanks be to the lovely Twiggzzler for beta'ing!

Max and Furiosa decided to pull over for lunch after the third traffic violation stop of the day. It was slow, or maybe Max just wasn't paying enough attention. The day felt like it was dragging on.

 

He took out a container with some kind of chicken pasta Nux had made. The kid was getting creative with food. Pasta didn't seem particularly original, but it was a big improvement; all he knew how to make when he'd first moved in was Vegemite sandwiches and ramen. As he stabbed at the food with a plastic fork he'd gotten from the break room at the station, his mind drifted, not for the first time, back to that morning. He found himself, unreasonably, a little irritated when Furiosa glanced over at him and spoke.

 

"You've been quiet today."

 

He paused, with his fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at her with a raised brow. He rarely spoke when he didn't have to, anyway.

 

Furiosa gave a short laugh and shook her head. "You know what I mean."

 

Max grunted in acknowledgement and went back to eating. He did know what she meant. He was always quiet, but he knew he'd been nothing short of distracted today, which was unusual. He just felt like he couldn't focus on a damn thing. That odd feeling in his gut seemed to have made a home there, and he'd been trying to puzzle it out all day, to no avail. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it made him...uncomfortable. "Tired, I guess," he finally supplied.

 

"Long night?"

 

Max looked over at her quickly, imagining an implication in her tone, but she was casually taking another bite of her sandwich, not even looking at him. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He needed to stop being so goddamned paranoid. There was no way Furiosa could know. She was perceptive, sure, but Max was sure he was being careful.

 

"Just...didn't sleep well."

 

Furiosa nodded. "I know what you mean." He thought he saw a smile flicker over her lips. "How's Nux?"

 

Max almost choked on his food, and Furiosa cast him a curious glance. He took a drink from his water bottle and was finally able to answer. "Good," he muttered. "He's been...behaving."

 

Furiosa nodded slowly, still watching him a little suspiciously. She looked about to speak when the radio crackled to life and interrupted her. "Code 3, 10-54 shots fired at 713 Victoria Highway residential. Nearest patrol report."

 

"Isn't that—" Furiosa began.

 

Max had already put the car in drive, the engine revving as he pulled out into the street cut her off. She silently reached over to flip the siren on, then grabbed the radio. Another patrol had already radioed in that they were near, so she reported they were coming as backup.

 

The drive felt like it took forever, even though Max went at least twice the speed limit the entire time. It was Slit; he knew it was Slit. He didn't know how the dero had found his house, had found Nux, but it couldn't be anyone else, and he must have brought a gun because Max had taken the firing pin out of his pistol and locked it up when Nux had moved in. God, but he regretted that now. Where were you, Max? He had to blink hard, shaking his head a little to try and dispel the memories coming to attack him again. It was different. Nux was a smart kid, a good fighter, and it was probably just Slit—but what if it wasn't? What if it wasn't different?

 

When he pulled up and threw the car into park, an ambulance was blocking his view to the driveway. His stomach twisted, but when he killed the engine and got out, he could hear Nux shouting, and the sudden rush of relief made his hands shake.

 

A paramedic and two officers were trying to force Nux towards the ambulance, but he was fighting them viciously, kicking and shoving. Just as Max started towards them, Nux managed to break away and ran back towards the house. He dropped to his knees in the slowly spreading pool of blood next to Slit's head.

 

"Leave him," Max barked as the officers moved towards Nux again. All three looked over and Max scowled at them. It seemed to reinforce his point. They backed off.

 

The shattered glass crunched on the concrete under his boots as Max stepped closer to Nux. He crouched next to the boy, glancing up at the bedroom window—sure enough, jagged edges of broken glass clung to the frame. He sighed and finally looked at Nux.

 

The kid was covered in blood, mostly on his hands and sweatpants. A lot of it seemed to be Slit's, which was good, but Max could see a few bruises in the shape of fingertips around his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...Slit!" Nux didn't look at Max, didn't even seem to notice him, his gaze trained on his dead friend. He lifted a hand to brush his fingertips over Slit's cheek, cut into a permanent, ugly grin. Slit's head was turned to the side, and his spine stuck out of the back of his neck through gristle and blood and torn skin. Max wondered how many mutilated bodies Nux must have seen if this didn't make him sick. Even Max felt a little nauseous looking at it. Nux was shaking, still talking to Slit as though the dead man was ignoring him. "Slit, get up!" When Nux grabbed Slit's shoulder and pushed, angrily, Max reached out to grab his arm, pulling his attention away. When Nux looked up at him in surprise, his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. "Max!"

 

Still crouching, Max almost fell over when Nux lunged at him and threw his arms around Max's neck. Max grunted and leaned his weight on his good leg, putting his arms around Nux's middle to haul him up as he stood. Good thing the kid was light, or Max might not have been able to get them both up essentially on one leg. "Hey," he murmured, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of Nux's face. He'd pressed his forehead against Max's shoulder, so Max could only see the side of it, but he looked pale. "You hurt?"

 

Nux shook his head, but Max wasn't even sure the kid was listening. "He fell out...I wasn't trying to—I just wanted to get the gun," he mumbled. His knees buckled and Max tightened his hold around Nux's middle, wincing sympathetically when Nux sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"I know. You're not in trouble, but you need to go with them," Max said. Nux shook his head again, but his grasp on Max's neck weakened, so Max adjusted his grip and half-carried, half-dragged Nux to the ambulance. He was only wearing sweatpants, no shoes or shirt, and when Max lifted him into the back, with the help of one of the paramedics, Max finally saw the extent of the damage. Just above the edge of his sweatpants, the skin of his lower stomach was torn raggedly, and small bits of glass had embedded themselves in the gash. Another wave of nausea hit him and Max looked away and cleared his throat.

 

"Max," Nux said urgently, rousing himself enough to reach out and grab at Max's arm. He looked about to pass out, but fear tinged his expression. "Don't—don't go, will you? Don't let 'em take me," he pleaded.

 

Max reached up to gently pull Nux's grip off his arm. "I can't, Nux, I've gotta stay here. They'll take care of you, alright? Don't worry," he said, forcing what he hoped was a comforting smile. He had to turn away from the look Nux gave him—he did want to go but he couldn't just leave work, as much as he wanted to. But before he could start over to the other two officers standing by Slit's body, Furiosa stepped in front of him, stopping him short.

 

"Go with him, Rockatansky. We can handle this," she said, her voice low but firm.

 

Max opened his mouth to argue, but Furiosa cut him off before he could speak.

 

"Just go. He's gonna cause more problems if you're not there." Still, Max hesitated. "Go, fool," Furiosa snapped, then turned sharply.

 

Max blinked, a little surprised by her ferocity, but sighed and turned again. The ambulance doors were closed and the engine started up as he pounded his fist on the door. "Hey, open up!" he shouted to the paramedic.

 

The door swung open quickly and the paramedic looked positively relieved when Max climbed in. "Can't get him to lay on the stretcher," he explained when Max glanced down at Nux, still sitting on the floor.

 

"'m not dying," Nux said snappishly.

 

"No one said you were. But you need to let him do his job, or you might," Max said. "Just do what he says. I'm staying with you."

 

Nux chewed on that for a second, then finally shifted to get onto the stretcher he was leaning against, reluctantly accepting the help of the medic. He collapsed on his back and choked down a whimper, his hands clenching into fists. Only a moment afterwards, though, he shuddered and his eyes slid shut, and his hands went slack. The medic shouted through the window to the cab for the driver to get going, and the ambulance pulled out, sirens wailing.

 

"Is he gonna be alright?" Max asked after he took a seat on the metal ledge on the side, watching as the medic started to work.

 

"Well...he lost a lot of blood. It's gonna be a pain to get the glass out. But we can get him an emergency transfusion as soon as we get to the hospital, and after that he should be fine. Nothing went too deep, far as we can tell so far. It'll scar, but I guess that won't bother him," the paramedic replied, with a little laugh at his own joke.

 

Max stared at him flatly, and when the medic glanced at him, his smile faded and he cleared his throat. "He'll be fine."

 

Max nodded and leaned back against the ambulance wall with a sigh, watching Nux. He wanted to do something, anything, but he knew he'd only get in the way within the small space, so he settled for tapping his foot on the floor and cracking his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd never been able to drop. He'll be fine, Max repeated to himself, again and again. He'll be fine.

 

Max waited inside the ambulance, trying to make himself small, until they'd gotten Nux out. He followed at a short distance, glad he was in uniform. The staff were less likely to question what he was doing there—he let them do their job, and they let him do his. They started the transfusion first, then the messy business of digging glass out of the cut—Max couldn't say he was very disappointed that they kicked him out of the room for that part.

 

They asked a couple questions and he had to sign some papers, but once they finished the stitching and bandaging, the nurses allowed him into the room Nux had been moved to, with the assurance Nux would be released in the next few hours.

 

Nux looked better already when Max went into the room. The blood had been cleaned off of his hands and stomach; he appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and, thankfully, wasn't pale as death anymore. Max pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down heavily. "I'm no good at this witness protection thing," he muttered, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Nux huffed.

 

"S'not your fault," Nux mumbled, his eyes still closed.

 

Max smiled in spite of himself. It was a relief just hearing Nux's voice. "Didn't know you were awake."

 

Nux's shoulder twitched in what Max supposed was a shrug. "Barely."

 

"Well, get some rest. I'll be here when you're ready to go."

 

Nux mumbled something Max didn't quite catch, then fell silent again. Even significant blood loss could barely keep the kid quiet for long.


	14. Fallen Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes talk of relapse. If that triggers you, please don't read this one.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Thanks again to Twiggzzler, the best beta reader ever, for her edits! I definitely wouldn't have made it this far without her.

"We're not calling her Catburetor," Max repeated.

 

"Why not? She hasn't got a name," Nux insisted, scratching just behind the cat's ear.

 

"Sure she does. Cat," Max said, taking a seat next to Nux on the couch. He put his arm along the back of it and Nux shifted closer, the cat opening on eye to cast Max a death glare; apparently deciding he was the reason for her seat moving.

 

"That's not a name, that's what she is."

 

"Yeah, so it makes sense. Catburetor doesn't make sense."

 

"It's funny; it's like carburetor."

 

Max rolled his eyes. "Pick something else. Anything else. No more car part jokes, either."

 

As Nux considered that, Max dropped his arm to rest on Nux's shoulders and put his feet up on the coffee table, grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch. That night had been pretty much like every other; he'd come home after a twelve-hour shift, and Nux had already figured out something for dinner. Max suspected he looked up everything he made on the internet, but he couldn't complain—it was always simple, but so far he'd only come home to a disaster in the kitchen two or three times, and Nux seemed to enjoy cooking. Or maybe he was just bored out of his mind. Max knew he spent a lot of time working on the Oldsmobile, but still, being cooped up in a house all day, almost every day, had to get old.

 

"What about Slit?"

 

Max stopped just as he was about to turn on the television and looked down at Nux. Nux refused to look at him, petting the cat intently.

 

"Why Slit?" Max asked, his voice carefully gentle. It had only been a few weeks, and Nux...well, he had good days and bad days. Sometimes he wouldn't speak, and other times he wouldn't stop. Rarely, he spoke about Slit, and when he did, Max was ready for the rough night that would follow. It had been a good day, so far. Max didn't want to ruin it, but somehow he didn't think this was healthy.

 

"Her eyes are...like slits," Nux pointed out. Evading.

 

Max heaved a sigh and weighed his options. He felt a fight brewing if he rejected that name. Nux could be godawful stubborn sometimes, and lately he'd been in a habit of picking fights. Max tried not to indulge him but it was a challenge. "Alright. I'm probably going to forget and call her cat still," he finally said. He wouldn't forget. But it was better than saying he didn't want to use that name. He still felt something like satisfaction whenever he saw the dark spot on the concrete where they'd tried to scrub out the bloodstain. The bastard got what was coming to him, if you asked Max.

 

Nux was silent for a moment. Max turned on the TV and tried to pretend he wasn't bracing himself for...something. He wasn't sure. Nux could be unpredictable.

 

Nux didn't say anything when he got up, depositing the cat onto Max's lap, and didn't answer Max's questioning glance. He went into the bathroom and came back a few minutes later. Max didn't hear the toilet or the sink, and Nux was rubbing at his nose when he came back out, sniffling a little. His eyes were bloodshot—they were like that a lot nowadays. Max never saw him cry, but it could be that. Could be something else.

 

"You sick?" Max asked as Nux settled next to him again.

 

Nux shook his head. "Just...allergies, or something, I guess," he muttered.

 

Max caught himself before he spoke, and snapped his mouth shut. He didn't know what he'd been about to say. He didn't want to know, either. It couldn't have been anything good, not with the way his gut was twisting unpleasantly. Instead, he turned to press a kiss to Nux's cheek, over the scar forming where Slit had cut his face open. There were so many reminders of him. Max had the jealous urge to cover them all, make Nux think of Max instead of the man Nux had spent his whole life with. The intensity of the feeling scared him. Jesse had always told him he was the jealous type,  but he thought he'd always kept it pretty well under control, and now he felt like he was losing his handle on his feelings. But he didn't know how to say that, and he didn't want to burden Nux with any of it, anyway, so it was all for the better he supposed.

 

"Capable taking you to the college tomorrow?" Max asked, changing the subject.

 

Nux nodded. "Yeah. She says we're gonna look at the vocational programs. I don't get why I have to go to a class. I already know everything about cars; I don't wanna go to school. I wanna get a job," he complained.

 

"I know. But you need to show the court you're doing something productive if you want to get emancipated. They like to see school in your plan," Max said, but his mind was on other things. He couldn't shake this nagging suspicion that had begun to creep up on him. He had plenty of sick days. He'd call in tomorrow. He didn't like to do that, but he'd need the time alone at the house, and Nux wasn't often gone for more than a couple of hours. He should be with Capable all day.

 

"Well, as soon as all this shit's over, I'm just gonna get a job," Nux said stubbornly.

 

Max shrugged. "You can do what you want after this. But you need to buckle down for now."

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Nux said, and Max jumped when he felt cold fingers slip under his shirt. "Buckle down. Go to school. Behave myself," Nux parroted teasingly, flattening his hand on Max's skin just above his jeans. Max shivered and his hand twitched, but he didn't stop Nux yet. Nux pulled his hand away to pick up the cat and move her again, this time putting her on the couch so that he could turn and straddle Max's legs, settling on his lap just over his crotch. He ducked his head to catch Max's lips in a kiss, which Max reciprocated somewhat reluctantly. He rested his hands on Nux's thighs, but when he ground his hips down, Max moved his hands to grab Nux's hips tight, keeping him still. He turned his head to break the kiss. "Not tonight," he said softly. This close, he got a good look at Nux's eyes, his pupils blown wide. Max wasn't ready to throw accusations. He'd wait for tomorrow.

 

Nux scowled, leaning back. "Why not?"

 

Max shook his head. "I'm tired. We both need to be up early tomorrow, let's just sit for a little while," he coaxed.

 

But Nux shook his head and got to his feet. "Fine, then go to bed," he snapped, going to the closet by the front door and snatching his jacket out of it.

 

"Where are you going?" Max asked, getting to his feet.

 

"The shed. What's it to you?" Nux said, already heading for the back door.

 

"I'm coming to get you in half an hour!" Max called after him. The only answer he got was the door slamming shut.

 

 

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it was a bad night; neither of them got much sleep. After Max got Nux back into the house, the kid shouted until he was hoarse then disappeared into the spare bedroom when Max refused to let him go back outside again. Max went into his own room, but couldn't sleep, getting up to look at the stairs at every sound to make sure Nux wasn't trying to sneak out. Finally, around two in the morning, Nux finally came back into the master bedroom and laid down with Max. Neither said a word, and they managed to catch a little sleep between Nux's nightmares.

 

 

* * *

The next morning, Nux seemed to be back to his energetic self after a shower. Max dressed as though he was going to work, but when Nux had been getting ready, Max had called in. He lied to Nux and Capable, told them he was going in a little later than usual. As soon as they were gone, he got out of uniform and started his search.

 

Nux had been acting normal that morning, normal as it went with the kid, and Max had deluded himself so thoroughly he was almost surprised when he found the first baggie. He'd reimagined and revised everything from the last night (the last couple weeks, if he was honest with himself) to the extent that he could have believed he was mistaken. But Nux wasn't used to hiding his stash, that Max was sure of. It wasn't hard to find—it was in the shed, where he'd started looking. Inside the Oldsmobile, in the glove compartment. After his fears were confirmed, his search became more thorough. Just like the first time, he practically tore the house apart. It took hours, but when all was said and done, he'd found five bags, about a gram each.

 

Max had handled addicts before, but only to an extent. His job dealt with front-lines—he had absolutely no experience with long-term care for a drug-user. For a long time, he stood in the kitchen, staring down at the several bags of cocaine on the counter. How the hell had Nux even gotten them? Max guessed he could have left the house in all the hours he was alone, walked somewhere, called someone he already knew maybe, but he had no money; how could he pay... Max threw away that train of thought before it got too far, and snatched the bags off the counter to go into the bathroom and toss all of them into the toilet. He had to flush a couple times, just to be sure they went down—he didn't have the best plumbing—then went upstairs to start putting everything away. There was no use speculating. If he had questions, he'd just have to ask Nux.

 

By the time he was finished, it was already late in the afternoon and he guessed Nux would be back soon. He still hadn't figured out how to start this conversation. He knew they needed to talk about it, but he was at a loss for what to say. He busied himself with making dinner for the time being. They could eat first, then have a talk, he decided. He'd know what to say by then.

 

He was starting the vegetables when he heard the front door open and slam shut. Nux came straight to the kitchen, suspicion melding into confusion on his face when he looked in to see Max. "You're home early," he noticed, and Max wasn't sure if he imagined the strain of fear in Nux's voice.

 

Max nodded, turning a little to glance at him and offering a small smile. "I wanted to hear how the college trip went," he lied, turning back to the stove and taking the lid off the pan of shrimp to stir them around a little.

 

"Oh, it was good! We pretty much just talked to counselors all day. I'm supposed to go back in a couple weeks and take some kinda test; I forget what it's called," Nux said, walking across the kitchen to pull himself onto the counter nearer the stove. "They said I could skip most of the stupid classes if I just wanna get, uh, what did they call 'em...certificates. To work on cars. They said it'd help me get a job," he continued.

 

Max hummed in acknowledgement, but only half-listened as Nux continued to chatter about his day. The kid didn't seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary. Max almost felt bad. Like he was luring Nux into a false sense of security. He focused on dinner to take his mind off of it.

 

Somehow, he was never able to bring up the subject. Nux seemed to be genuinely happy for the first time since Slit died, and each time Max tried to come up with something to say, he'd look at Nux and a smile he hadn't seen in weeks would make the words die in his throat.

 

They went to bed early, both tired from the night before. Nux was already in bed by the time Max came out of the bathroom, and when he settled into his side of the bed and turned off the lamp, Nux shuffled closer. Max almost stopped him, but Nux just pressed close, snaking his arm over Max's bare middle and settling his head on Max's shoulder. "Okay?" Nux mumbled into his skin. For all his confidence in sex and touching, Nux could be shy when it came to asking for real affection.

 

It was uncomfortably hot, laying this close, and Nux's cheekbone was digging into his shoulder, but Max smiled a little and hummed in confirmation, shifting only to wrap his arm around Nux's shoulders.

 

 

* * *

Max woke a few hours later on his side, and the first thing he saw was the glow of the clock on his sidetable, reading one in the morning. Half-asleep still, he groped around for the blankets—he must have kicked them off earlier when it was warmer, but he was cold now, which must have been what woke him. When he realized he couldn't reach them he grumbled and sat up to reach down and grab the hem, but as he settled on his other side, he felt something wasn't right. He opened his eyes again, reluctantly, to see he was alone in the bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then looked at the bathroom. The light wasn't on.

 

He kicked off the blankets again and got to his feet with a grunt, his knee protesting the sudden movement as it always did when he got up after a long time. He'd need to start wearing his brace again. Before he went out, he pulled on a t-shirt, then headed for the door.

 

Nux wasn't in the hall either, but when he went downstairs he could see the light on in the kitchen, and some sort of commotion. Not loud enough to wake him upstairs, but loud enough to hear it from the stairway.

 

He was a little more awake, and as he headed to the kitchen a sudden feeling of anxiety hit him. One of the bags he'd found had been in the kitchen, underneath the sink hidden behind some cleaning supplies in a few rags.

 

Sure enough, he stepped into the kitchen to see Nux pawing around the gutted cupboard, various bottles of cleaning chemicals scattered around him on the floor. Nux was muttering curses to himself as he searched, and he didn't seem to notice Max at all.

 

Max crossed his arms over his chest and watched Nux for a moment. "Looking for something?" he finally said.

 

Nux visibly started, and quickly withdrew himself from the space underneath the sink, turning to look at Max. He scrambled to his feet, but for one unbelievable moment seemed to be at a loss for words.

 

Of course, that didn't last long.

 

"What did you do with it?" he demanded. He didn't look as good as he had earlier. Max could see he was shaking, and he looked exhausted.

 

"I got rid of it," Max said simply.

 

"What? No, I—Goddamnit, Max, I need that! Where'd you put it?" Nux snarled.

 

"It's gone," Max repeated. He didn't move, standing at the only exit from the kitchen, but his eyes followed Nux as the boy began to pace.

 

"No! Fuck!" Nux stopped pacing to rub his face with his hands, then suddenly rounded on Max and jabbed a finger at him. "You! You piece of shit, you're traitoring rust! I hate you; you'd be nothing! You're nothing !"

 

Max was startled by the force of Nux's response. The kid's voice raised steadily until he was shouting, and as he went on he made less and less sense...until Max thought. Nux. Nothing. Max unfolded his arms and slowly stepped closer to Nux, letting him watch as Max moved. It wouldn't help to scare him, he was already plenty agitated without Max surprising him with anything. Carefully, he reached up to put his hands on Nux's shoulders. He didn't like the look of fear that flitted over Nux's face, or the way he put his hands on Max's chest as though he was ready to try and push him away. He backed up, but Max followed until Nux's back hit the counter and stopped him. "Stop. Listen to me," Max insisted, tightening his grip when Nux pushed at him. "You don't mean that. You're not nothing. But...you need to stop. You have to quit, understand?"

 

Nux crumbled—he stopped pushing at Max and shook his head. "I can't," he choked out, his fingers curling into Max's shirt, grasping at the fabric like a lifeline. "I can't. I need it...Max, I can't ."

 

"You can," Max insisted, releasing his grip on Nux's shoulders to wrap his arms around the other, pulling him close. Nux pressed his forehead to Max's shoulder, still clutching at his shirt, and Max felt Nux's whole body jerk with the force of a choked sob. "You can. I'll help you, Nux...I know you can," he murmured, moving one hand to cradle the back of Nux's head, a poor mimicry of the way Nux would sometimes carelessly ruffle his hair.

 

They stayed like that for a while. Nux fought off sobs, and Max held him close, occasionally pressing kisses into the side of his face, until finally Nux straightened up, lifting a hand to quickly scrub away tears as though he could pretend he'd never cried at all. Max relaxed his grip, looking away to let Nux regain his composure.

 

"Can we...I want to go back to bed," Nux finally muttered.

 

Max nodded, took a small step back. "I'm gonna...clean this up. Hey," on impulse, he grabbed Nux's arm as the kid started to walk past him. Nux stopped and looked at him expectantly, his eyes bloodshot and still bright with tears. "I, uh...you know, I know you miss him. But you'll be alright," he said, stilted but sincere.

 

Nux's smile was forced, and looked more like a grimace, but he nodded, and Max reluctantly let go of his arm. Nux turned and went back to the hall.

 

Max took his time putting everything away—really, it could have taken less than five minutes to throw everything back in there. He wasn't a neat freak, but he set everything in its place and sat looking at it for a few minutes before he finally got to his feet and headed back upstairs, expecting to find an empty bed waiting for him.

 

To his surprise, Nux was curled up in the middle of his bed, already fast asleep. Max smiled in spite of himself.


	15. Crazy Little Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Twiggzzler again for her fantastic editing! I hope you guys like this chapter, it was one of my personal favorites to write...for once, a whole chapter didn't give me any issues at all. Imagine that. Practically wrote itself.
> 
> I stole the title from Queen. I love Queen, and I love the song Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

"No, it does work! I done it before!"

 

"Well, you're just a dumb pup. It don't work for long, you probably crashed the car before it went south on you, huh?"

 

That gave Nux pause, and Ace laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. It's a quick-fix; a real mechanic wouldn't ever do such a shite job on a car."

 

Max was only half-following the conversation. He'd lately gathered that Ace, like Nux and Furiosa, used to be a War Boy himself, and he and Nux had been talking about some sort of jerry-rigging with the fanbelt of a car involving a length of 550-cord with a screwdriver tied to the end in order to get it started up.

 

Ace leaned forward on the couch and hiked up his jeans, revealing an ugly scar on his shin. "That's what happens when you run outta luck with that screwdriver, pup," he said.

 

Nux shifted to look at it, and shrugged. "Well, I ain't run outta luck just yet."

 

Ace snorted and pulled his pant leg down again. "Keep doin' it and you will eventually."

 

Nux rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch again. He was sitting close to Capable, their legs touching, his arm slung over the back of the couch behind her. Max didn't know if they'd always been like that; he'd never noticed before. He noticed now, as much as he tried not to. It was nothing, he knew that. Capable would never do something like that. Nux was one of her cases, for God's sake, and she wasn't one for overstepping boundaries. Still, he couldn't help casting glances over at the two, wishing he was in Capable's place.

 

Max pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen to refill his drink. Somehow, they'd managed to get everyone together that night at Dag and Cheedo's place for dinner and drinks in celebration of the news of Joe's pending trial date. Max understood the excitement, but it hardly seemed like a reason for celebration—the following weeks would mean a lot of reliving bad memories for the lot of them. All the girls were testifying, as well as Nux. Ace wasn't, but Max didn't ask why. Perhaps he didn't want to give up the low-profile he'd likely spent years building in order to live in peace without other War Boys terrorizing him for turning traitor.

 

But, he figured, it didn't hurt to have a night off to enjoy the small victories. Nothing was set in stone yet, but they had good prosecutors and plenty of good evidence; the state wasn't taking any chances with putting Joe away. This had been a long time coming.

 

The kitchen was down the hall from the living room, and as Max refilled his small cup of whiskey, he could hear a pair of heavy footsteps following him—Nux. Max had learned the specific sound of his steps. For a skinny kid, he sure could make a lot of noise just walking around.

 

"Max!" Sure enough, when Max glanced over his shoulder, Nux was ambling towards him, a big grin on his face. They'd let him have a little to drink that night (probably a little too much, Max reflected) in hopes it would cheer him up some. Nux was particularly anxious about the trial—Max suspected he hadn't fully come to terms with throwing a man who was like a father-figure under the bus, along with the rest of almost everyone he'd ever known. It made sense that he was nervous.

 

But he seemed to have mostly forgotten all of that, for now, as he stepped up behind Max and wrapped his arms around the other's middle, resting his chin on Max's shoulder. "Can I have some?"

 

Max chuckled and shook his head. "You're cut off," he said, taking a sip of the drink then shrugging Nux off so he could turn around. Nux stayed close though, trapping him against the counter. "Let's go back out."

 

Nux grinned and shook his head. "Let's stay in here," he suggested, ducking his head to try and catch Max's lips.

 

Max turned his head away. "Not here, Nux," he said. He started to side-step, but Nux put his hands on Max's side again and bumped their foreheads together lightly.

 

"You're no fun. Just one kiss, c'mon, please?" he pleaded, his fingers bunching the fabric of Max's shirt. "Please, Max."

 

Max sighed. Nux had him figured out; he already knew which buttons to press. He turned his head to meet Nux's lips—it was supposed to be brief. But when he tried to pull away, Nux's hand found the back of his head to hold him still and he teased his tongue along Max's lips. For a moment, Max forgot himself. He leaned into the kiss, parting his lips enough to let his tongue explore the ridges of Nux's lips, and his own hand moved up to curl around the back of Nux's neck.

 

A sharp gasp made Max jerk backwards as though he'd been electrocuted, his eyes snapping open.

 

"Max!"

 

Nux shuffled away from Max sheepishly as Capable charged into the room and planted herself in between them. "What the fuck is going on?" she demanded. Max had never seen her so angry. Her cheeks were flushed, nearly the color of her hair, and if looks could kill...

 

"I, uh..." Max cleared his throat and glanced around anxiously. He wasn't prepared for this. Words had never been his strong suit. He caught a glimpse of Furiosa standing near the door to the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest. He couldn't tell if she was as livid as Capable, but Furiosa had always been hard to read.

 

"It's not like what you think, Capable, I—" Nux began, but when Capable rounded on him he shrunk back a little.

 

"No, Nux. Not right now. Just—go out to my car. We're going to my place," she said, digging the keys out of her pocket. She put them in Nux's hand and pushed him towards the door, and Max felt his stomach sink. He'd really fucked things up this time.

 

Nux hesitated as Capable corralled him towards the door, and Max stepped forward. "Listen, Capable—"

 

Capable turned to face him again. She stepped close, blocking his way to Nux and the door. "I don't want to hear your bullshit, Max. You're just like the rest of them. Joe, Slit, all of you, sick bastards. If you ever come within fifty meters of him again, I will end you," she hissed. Before Max could even try and think of a response, Capable turned on her heel and headed for the door, pushing Nux out in front of her. Nux was saying something to Capable, but there was a weird ringing in his ears, like he'd just gone to the range without earplugs, and he couldn't hear over it.

 

He did hear the front door slam, and after that, silence. Max forced out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and slumped back against the counter, dropping his head.

 

When Furiosa laid her hand on his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin—he'd forgotten she was there. He didn't look up, though. Capable's tirade had been enough; he didn't need to see the same disgust in Furiosa's face.

 

"Ace and I are going to take you home," she said after a moment.

 

Max nodded, but he didn't move until Furiosa had gone back into the hallway.

 

Back home...empty, now, again. Furiosa and Ace would drop him off, and he'd probably get to work the day after tomorrow to find he'd been reassigned to a new partner. A virtual stranger—not Furiosa, or Toast. Neither of them would take him after this. And he couldn't blame them for that. Capable was right, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

 

He got outside quickly, careful not to look at any of the others as he passed the living room. He didn't know if they had figured out what was going on, and he didn't want to know. Capable would tell them soon enough, and that would be it. He'd lose all of them, because he was selfish. Because he was a sick bastard.

 

Before Furiosa and Ace came outside, he'd already smoked two cigarettes. He stamped out the third he'd been working on and got into Furiosa's car; he and Nux had come over with Capable, so his own car was back at his house.

 

No one spoke a word on the way over. He was mildly surprised when both Ace and Furiosa got out of the car and followed him to his door, but the feeling was muted by the nauseousness slowly settling in his stomach. He paused when he stuck the key in the door and glanced at Furiosa. "Uh...Capable made her point pretty clear. You don't have to go over it again," he managed as he pushed the door open.

 

Furiosa scoffed and followed him inside regardless.

 

Max sat on the couch, mentally preparing himself for the second, unnecessary character assessment of the night, but Furiosa went into the kitchen. Ace made himself comfortable on the couch, looking considerably less concerned than Max felt he should be.

 

A few minutes later, Furiosa came back out and set a mug down on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up at her quizzically.

 

"It's tea, not poison. Drink it," she encouraged, taking a seat on the coffee table and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, watching as Max slowly picked up the mug and took a sip. It was searing hot, but he hardly noticed. Furiosa smiled slightly and gave a little nod. "Alright, now listen. Capable...she said some things she didn't mean."

 

Max snorted, about to retort, but Furiosa cut him off with a withering glare.

 

"Nobody thinks you're like Joe, or Slit. Capable's, you know...passionate. About all her cases, but especially about Nux. The girls—all of them—they weren't around War Boys much. At all, really. They have a whole separate culture that doesn't make sense to Capable, or any of them. I was with War Boys the whole time I was in Joe's gang." She jerked her head towards Ace. "So was he."

 

"Sure was. And I bet you that pup jumped your bones first chance he got, didn'he?" Ace cut in with a smirk. When Max didn't respond, he laughed and nodded.

 

Max almost smiled but it turned into a grimace. "Doesn't matter. I should've...I shouldn't have done anything. I'm supposed to be the responsible one."

 

"Well, it's not your fault. We can be a convincing lot," Ace grinned, then hissed a curse when Furiosa kicked him, hard, in the shin.

 

"I know you care about him, Max. And I know he knows that. And I know he's doing his best to explain that to Capable right now."

 

 

* * *

For most of the night, Capable's house was silent. After her initial outburst, Capable couldn't seem to find words. A few times she looked about to speak, but each time she would snap her mouth shut again and shake her head with a huff. Nux...was tired. And confused. He was upset, but he couldn't put a name to the exact feeling. All he knew was that he didn't like it, and it made him sullen.

 

When they got to the house, he went to go to the spare bedroom he'd always stayed in before, but Capable gestured to the couch. "Sit down, Nux," she said.

 

Nux almost protested, but he found he was too exhausted to argue about it. So he went to the couch and slumped back onto it. Capable walked away, but he didn't see where she went, staring up at the ceiling with half-closed eyes.

 

A crash coming from the kitchen made him jump and his eyes snapped open. He shifted to stand, but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, Capable was back in the living room again, pushing back her long, thick hair with her hands. Her eyes were bright and rimmed with red. "I was...trying to make something for you to drink," she said, her voice strained.

 

"It's alright, I don't need anything to drink. Here, I'll go clean it up," Nux offered. It was distressing, seeing Capable upset like this, even more so because he knew he'd caused it. But when he started for the kitchen, Capable stopped him and abruptly pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Nux, I should never have let you stay with Max. I didn't know this would happen; I thought he was a good guy. I should have kept you here," she continued shakily.

 

Nux put his arms around her, rubbing her back slowly as she spoke. "Capable...I don't know what you're talking about," he finally admitted, reaching up to brush his hand over her hair.

 

Capable pulled away enough to look up at him, then stepped back and reached up to wipe at her face, blinking quickly. "Nux, he shouldn't be doing that, taking advantage of you like that. It's wrong."

 

Nux blinked then shook his head quickly, a small laugh escaping him. Capable narrowed her eyes at him, irritated. "He's not taking advantage of me, he's—we're just..." Nux trailed off and waved his hand. "I mean, that kiss was my idea. It was a stupid idea; Max tried to tell me to cut it out, but I wouldn't listen—okay, the point is, he ain't doing anything I don't want him to, okay? It's not like that."

 

"Well," Capable moved away and sat on the couch, shaking her head. "That doesn't make much of a difference, Nux. You're a minor, and he was supposed to be watching after you."

 

"He was! He's good at it. Keeps me in line," Nux insisted, following to sit next to her, turned a little so he coud face her. "All the other stuff, that was my idea."

 

Capable sighed and reached out to lay her hand against the side of his face, her thumb stroking over the gash in his cheek that was still scarring over. "You don't understand, Nux. It isn't right," she said softly.

 

Nux tilted his head a little into her hand. "Everyone keeps saying that, but it's not true. I get that Slit wasn't...Max isn't anything like that. He's nice , he doesn't make me feel bad or hurt me. Please, Capable," he pulled her hand off of his face and held it in both of his. "Max is chrome, I promise. I know when someone's good for me. I always knew you were good for me, huh?" he said with a little smile.

 

Capable couldn't help a little laugh at that herself and nodded.

 

"I'm not a little kid, Capable," Nux said after a moment, his smile falling away as his tone grew serious again. "I like Max. A lot. And I...wanna be with him, you know?"

 

For a moment, he was met with silence as Capable chewed on her nail, her eyes cast down. "Yeah, I know," she finally mumbled, almost to herself. Then, she sighed and dropped her hand to her lap. "You know I love you, right?" she finally said.

 

Nux grinned and nodded. "I love you too, Capable. You'll always be the most shine," he said, leaning closer to put his arm around her and pull her close. "Even more than Max."

 

Capable laughed, leaning into him. "I'll let Max on probation," she finally allowed, resting her head on Nux's shoulder. "Can I at least keep you for tonight?"

 

"'Course," Nux agreed, settling back into the couch and pulling Capable with him. "But you're never gonna lose me, anyway."

 

Nux could feel her nod against his shoulder more than he could see it.


	16. Called Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally just fluff and smut in this one. Hope you guys like! Chapter title is from Queen again, from the same song, which I still love. Thanks as always to my beta, Twiggzzler!

 

Max gave up trying to sleep around five. He managed to catch a few hours after he'd convinced Furiosa and Ace that he'd be fine for the night and they could go home. But he'd kept his phone in his hand all night, and every time he'd woken up to see no missed calls or texts, his stomach sank a little further until the weight in his gut wouldn't let him sleep. He stayed in bed for another hour, hoping fall asleep again. But when it became apparent he wouldn't get the mercy of unconsciousness any longer, he got up and went down to the kitchen to start some coffee.

 

For a minute, he seriously considered adding some Bailey's to his coffee, but decided against it, as much as he wanted to. He wasn't ready to reduce himself to drinking in the early hours of the morning just yet.

 

Once he'd settled down at the dining room table with his coffee, he looked at his phone again and was not surprised, but still disappointed, to see nothing there. What if Furiosa was wrong? Maybe he had taken advantage of Nux, and Capable had finally helped the kid realize it. Max rubbed his forehead and took a drink of the scalding black coffee. Restlessly, he got up and went to the living room. There was no use sitting in silence staring at his phone; it would only make the time drag by even more slowly.

 

Of course, TV didn't help much. He'd never really been a big television watcher. He mostly used it for background noise, but there wasn't much else for him to do at this point. He didn't want to leave the house, just in case, and hardly anything was open at this time of morning anyhow. The idea of calling Capable crossed his mind, but he threw it away as soon as the thought arose. If she had settled down, he'd hear from her or Nux soon enough, and if she hadn't, the last thing she'd want was for Max to call her.

 

Finally, his patience paid off. When he heard the car pull into the driveway, he jumped to his feet, absentmindedly flipping the TV off as he went to look through the window. At first, he could only see Capable, dressed for work in black slacks and a white blouse, but he went to the door anyway. He opened it to see both her and Nux coming up the sidewalk. "Nux!" He almost jumped off the stairs of the porch to meet them on there, but stopped himself, his eyes flickering to Capable first. For a split second, he'd forgotten she was even there, he'd been so happy to see Nux again.

 

But Capable smiled a little and waved her hand. "It's fine, Max," she said.

 

Nux beat him to it. He cleared the three stairs up to the porch with a single step and slammed into Max with so much force that Max stumbled back through the doorway, laughing as he returned the hug. It was as if his oversized dog had gone missing and just found its way home.

 

"Sorry, Max," Nux said, pulling away only enough to bump his forehead against Max's. "I'll listen to you next time. I swear," he promised.

 

Max chuckled. "Well, I don't think it really matters anymore, kid," he replied, reaching up to brush his hand over Nux's shaved head as they finally pulled away. Capable had come up the steps by then and Max looked at her, a small smile still on his face. "Do you want to come in?" he offered, stepping out of the doorway for her.

 

"No, I've got to go to work," Capable replied, glancing at her watch. "I just came by to drop Nux off."

 

Max nodded and cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks."

 

"I overreacted, Max. I'm sorry," she said bluntly. Capable had never been one to mince words. Max had always liked that about her.

 

He shrugged. "We should have told you."

 

Capable laughed a little and shook her head. "Well, considering the way I acted last night, I don't blame you," she said. She stepped through the doorway and put her hand gently on Max's shoulder. "I didn't mean what I said last night. You're not like them." She paused and dropped her hand. "But I am going to be keeping an eye on you. Both of you," she said, cutting her glance to Nux, who grinned and ducked his head. "So behave yourselves." Leaning closer, she kissed Max's cheek, then gave Nux a hug. Max tried not to notice as Nux pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But I gotta go. You both look like you need some sleep, anyway," she said, then turned and headed back outside. Max and Nux stayed at the door, both waving as she pulled away.

 

Max shut the door and turned around, but he didn't make it much further than that. Nux invaded his space again, backing him up against the door he'd only just closed and pressing their lips together in a demanding, clumsy kiss. Max returned it regardless, reaching up to curl his hand around the back of Nux's neck and rubbing his thumb over the kid's scarred cheekbone in an attempt to steady the kiss somewhat. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Nux's cold hands creep underneath his shirt and arched into Nux.

 

Nux broke the kiss to press his lips along Max's jaw. "I missed you," he mumbled into Max's skin.

 

"You were only gone for a night," Max chuckled.

 

"I know. But I missed you."

 

Max gasped again when Nux nipped at the skin just below his jaw, and with his free hand, grabbed Nux's jeans and dragged him closer so their bodies were flush. "I missed you, too," he admitted, his eyes fluttering shut as Nux rutted against his hip, his own thigh pressing against Max's growing erection in the process. But Max gathered what was left of his self-control and moved his hand to Nux's chest, pushing him back. "Go up to the bedroom," he instructed. Nux's hurt look from being pushed away quickly morphed into a grin at Max's words and he turned to dart up the stairs. Max turned to lock the door and grabbed his phone from the coffee table before heading for the bedroom himself.

 

By the time he got upstairs, Nux had already stripped off his jacket and shirt, and was working on his belt buckle. Max stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Nux before he could turn around, and pushed his hands away from the buckle. "Slow down," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Nux's bare shoulder. "We got all day." He dragged his fingers over the skin just above Nux's jeans, drawing a low groan from the other. Nux's hands moved uncertainly, one reaching back to paw briefly at Max's leg before both settled atop Max's forearms, clutching erratically at them. Max wasn't sure if it was mercy or torture when he dropped his hand further to palm Nux's hard on through his jeans. Whichever it was, he didn't regret it as Nux shifted his hips, bucking into Max's touch and grinding his ass against Max's erection at the same time, his body trapped between Max's hand and body.

 

"I want you," Nux practically whined in between his soft panting. God, it was so easy to get him worked up.

 

Max just hummed in response and pulled his hand away as he scraped his teeth over the brand on the back of Nux's neck, earning another groan. Nux turned abruptly to face Max, grabbing the hem of his shirt to yank it up over his head before Max could protest. But before Nux could do anything more, Max put his hand on Nux's chest again and gave him another push, harder this time, to shove Nux back towards the bed. For a split second, he worried the push was too hard, that he was being too rough, but Nux half-sat, half-fell onto the bed and when the surprise faded from his expression it was replaced with a grin and a glint of excitement in the kid's eye. Max smiled back and stepped closer to stand in front of him. He paused for a moment and lifted his hand to cup the side of Nux's face, studying his ocean-blue eyes.

 

But it didn't last long. Nux grew impatient and snagged his fingers in Max's belt, dragging him down onto the bed. Max didn't resist, settling his good knee on the bed beside Nux's hip, carefully resting some of his weight on the kid, and leaning close to press their lips together again. Nux's hands scrabbled at Max's sides as they kissed, trying to pull him closer until Max slid one hand in between Nux's back and the bed to pin the other against him as he rolled onto his back. Nux didn't miss a beat, resettling to straddle Max's hips without even breaking the kiss.

 

Max grasped Nux's hips to force some control on his erratic movements and Nux moaned into the kiss as his fingernails dug hard into Max's ribcage. He finally pulled away in favor of pressing kisses along Max's jaw, down his neck, pausing at his collarbone to bite hard into the skin. Max groaned and his hands tightened reflexively as his hips bucked up against Nux. The thing that kid can do with his mouth, Max thought as Nux sucked at what was probably going to be a sizable hickey. He felt a little bad for appreciating Nux's experience.

 

"Max," Nux murmured against his skin, moving up to nip lightly at his neck and pulling Max out of his thoughts. "Max, please fuck me," he pressed once he was sure he had Max's attention. "Please. I need you."

 

Max grunted, clenching his jaw when Nux ground his hips down a little harder against Max's erection, sending a shiver of pleasure up and down his spine. "Nux," he started uncertainly, a little surprised by his breathlessness. He could hardly think straight. They hadn't gone that far yet, Max never had with a man, but it seemed like an increasingly good idea right now. Still, some part of him felt like it was going too far—as though it was any different than everything they had done. But it was. He was worried. About what, he couldn't say exactly, but having sex with a teenager who'd been raped only about a month ago seemed dangerous.

 

But Nux was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he knew he nearly had Max. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just underneath Max's ear and moaned, "Please, Max," again, dragging his nails across Max's lower stomach, making the skin there jump. He stopped just over Max's belt, toying with it hopefully.

 

Max pushed out a breath of air and shivered. "Lube and condoms in the drawer," he finally growled.

 

Nux was off him with surprising speed, and Max choked back a groan at the loss of contact. When he sat up, Nux was pulling open the drawer on the bedside table, sifting through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Meanwhile, Max readjusted himself on the bed, laying out on the middle and lazily palming himself through his jeans. Nux returned a moment later, fully naked now. He waited impatiently as Max kicked off his own pants.

 

As soon as Max had stripped, Nux was on him again, dropping the bottle and the condom on the bed beside them. Max grabbed the lube as Nux preoccupied himself with biting more marks into his collarbone, apparently not satisfied with just the one. Once he had three fingers coated, Max turned his head to catch Nux's scarred lips in another kiss, meeting the kid's eagerness and returning it with equal amounts of excitement. He slid his dry hand down Nux's side, then around his back to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing hard and smiling into the kiss at Nux's small noise of surprise. But it was his turn to gasp when Nux wrapped his hand lightly around Max's cock, stroking lightly, teasingly.

 

Max moved his other hand back and found Nux's hole, rubbing one finger over it before he slowly pushed in. Nux shivered, his grasp tightening a little on Max's cock, but he didn't tense or pull away, so Max pressed his finger in deeper. Though he'd never been with a man quite this intimately before, Max had gotten curious and the internet was a wealth of knowledge. And videos. Max moved his finger back and forth a few times until he felt it was safe to add a second, then a third. By then, Nux had gone from peppering Max's face and neck with kisses to mumbling into his skin between moans, most of which Max couldn't hear, although he caught his name a few times. Max took this as a sign that he must be doing this correctly.

 

Finally he pulled his hand away and grabbed the condom to tear the package open with his teeth. He got Nux to sit up as he rolled it down over his dick, biting his lip to stifle a groan. Nux beat him to the lube and this time Max couldn't help a moan as Nux moved his slicked hand over his cock.

 

Max settled his hands on Nux's hips again as the boy shifted to press the head of Max's cock to his entrance. Max expected him to take it slow, but as soon as he was situated, Nux sank down quickly and Max groaned, bucking his hips up involuntarily to the tight heat. Nux put his hand on Max's shoulder to steady himself as he began to move, clumsy at first, until he found a pace. Nux was a beautiful, obscene sight above him. His eyes were half closed, cheeks flushed, and scarred lower lip being worried between his lips. Max thrust his hips up to meet him and Nux gasped, clenching a little and drawing a groan from Max.

 

"Fuck—Nux," Max grunted, and reached up to wrap his hand around the back of Nux's neck to drag him down into a kiss. His hips jerked up when Nux nipped at his lip and a strangled cry escaped Nux. Max abruptly sat up and turned to push Nux onto his back, then pressed into him again, thrusting hard when Nux dragged his nails hard across his back. He had meant to be gentle, to take it slow, but he couldn't help himself with the way Nux writhed and moaned hotly underneath him in response to every rough thrust. He moved one hand down to wrap around Nux's cock, jerking him in time as he felt his gut tighten, heat burning low in his stomach. Nux arched up into him eagerly, hissing Max's name, and Max knew the boy was close when he moved his hand up to tangle in Max's short hair, tugging hard. That only spurred Max on, and his thrusts grew erratic as Nux tightened around him and cried out as he came, hips bucking up into Max's hand.

 

Max pressed his lips to Nux's shoulder, groaning into the skin, then biting down hard to muffle his own grunt as he came soon after, his hands gripping Nux's hips hard enough to bruise.

 

Panting raggedly, both were still for a little while afterwards. Max only moved to press a few kisses to the slowly bleeding bite he'd left on Nux's shoulder, and Nux roused himself enough to run his fingers through Max's hair as though apologetically. Finally, Max pulled out and carefully took off the condom, pausing to press a kiss to Nux's cheek before he got up and went into the bathroom. After he tossed the condom, he came back with a damp washcloth to clean them both up a little. He considered getting dressed, going downstairs, starting the day, but when he looked at Nux, covered only to his waist by the blanket, he decided he could stay in bed a little longer.

 

So, he joined Nux under the covers. Nux shifted close to rest his head on Max's shoulder, stretching his arm across the other's torso. Max put one arm around Nux's shoulders, and reached up with the other to drag his fingertips over the huge scar on Nux's chest. "You do this yourself?" he asked, something he'd been wondering about for a while.

 

"I didn't do that one. Organic did that."

 

"Organic?"

 

Nux nodded. "Organic mechanic. He took care of us when we were hurt and stuff."

 

Max knitted his eyebrows and nodded. Somehow he doubted this Organic was actually a doctor.

 

"This one took a long time. Bloody as hell," Nux commented, looking down at his own chest thoughtfully. Admiringly. "Was worth it, though."

 

Max moved his hands to Nux's lips, brushing his thumb over the scarring there, next. "What about these?"

 

"I did those myself," Nux confirmed, tilting his head a little to nip at Max's thumb teasingly.

 

"Why?"

 

Nux shrugged a little. "I busted my lip and broke my nose on a steering wheel on my first ride as a driver. I figured if I had a lot of them like that, I'd look like a skull like Immortan likes. Slit said it looked kamikrazee."

 

Max was silent for a moment, still stroking his thumb over the scars. He moved his hand up to Nux's cheek next. The scar there was mostly healed by now, slowly turning silver. Nux turned his head and rested his cheek on Max's shoulder, heaving a contented sigh.

 

"I love you." It wasn't what Max had meant to say, but it came out anyway. Too late to take it back. Anxiety crept up his chest, into his throat.

 

Nux picked up his head and looked at Max curiously. Max clenched his jaw, staring back for a moment, but for once, the silence was too much for him. "I'm sorry, that was—" So stupid, what's wrong with you?

 

Nux shook his head quickly and leaned up to press a kiss to Max's jaw. "No, it's just, I mean, no one's ever said that to me besides Capable," he said quickly, but hesitated. "Can you love two people at once?"

 

Max opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short. That was a good question, actually. He knew he still loved Jessie. He always would. For some reason, this didn't feel like such a betrayal, as he always thought it would. But that didn't change how he felt about Nux. "I think...you can," he finally said, rubbing his hand absentmindedly over Nux's back. "But you don't have to say it back to me. That's not what that means. It just means...I care about you. A lot."

 

Nux nodded slowly, chewed on that thought for a moment. "I think...I love you, too, though," he finally said, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words, so instead he rubbed his forehead against Max's shoulder and pressed closer to him. He didn't feel the same way about Max as he did about Capable, but he couldn't describe it. He'd never talked about feelings before, and he didn't really like it. Made him feel uncomfortable. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat," he suggested before Max could continue this line of conversation. He kicked the blankets back and crawled over Max, looking around for his jeans.

 

Max sighed and stretched out, watching Nux get dressed again. He'd gotten himself into a mess of a situation with this, falling in love with a minor convict. He wondered what Jessie would think. But thinking about Jessie still hurt, a lot. He couldn't do it for long. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up as well, pulling on a pair of sweats to follow Nux downstairs.


	17. Dead Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra big thanks to Twiggzzler for this chapter...it wouldn't have been any good without her! Sorry I'm late with this...again. This chapter didn't want to get onto my screen. I'll be on vacation for about a week and a half starting Sunday, and I might be too busy to write much. But don't worry! I won't abandon this work. We're getting close to the end, ladies and gents.
> 
> If suicide or talk of suicide is triggering to you, please don't read this chapter!
> 
> That title is a song by The Lumineers (and a very good one). It doesn't really make sense unless you've heard the song, so for those of you who care about the chapter title making sense, that's where you'll find the method to the madness!

Ch 17

 

Max pulled his car into the driveway and killed the engine, then leaned back in his seat with a sigh. He cast a furtive glance at Nux in the passenger's seat, who was tapping his fingers on his knee and staring resolutely out the window, though there was nothing to see. There was something to say. Max didn't know what it was.

 

It had been, all around, a bad day. Well, it had started out good enough—Nux was excited to go with Capable to the college and take a test for the mechanic program they were trying to enroll him in. But that was where the good part of the day ended. He'd failed the test, pretty spectacularly from what Capable told Max, which was puzzling. Max had seen Nux work on cars. He had even gotten the Oldsmobile running after only a couple weeks of working on it with limited tools. The kid was practically a genius with motors. Apparently not so much with multiple choice.

 

After that, Capable brought him to talk to the prosecutor for Joe's trial, which had gone, if possible, even worse. The prosecutor had used the term "uncooperative." Capable went into a little more detail.

 

"He was stressed out. The War Boys...they're conditioned not to answer those sorts of questions, you know? They don't talk to cops. If they get arrested they ask for a phone call and that's it. He wants to do the right thing, Max, and I know he will, but he needs support." She had sighed and pushed her fingers through her thick hair to comb it back. "Maybe they'll let me go in with him next time. I think that would help."

 

Max had just nodded and glanced over to his car where Nux was inside fiddling with the stereo. He'd offered to pick Nux up from the prosecutor's office after he got off work so that Capable could meet an appointment she had that evening. "He'll figure it out," he finally agreed.

 

Capable nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip.

 

The drive home had been silent. Max hadn't seen Nux in such a foul mood since Slit had died. But he didn't know what to say. He wasn't the type to sugarcoat, so he couldn't try and put a positive spin on the day because it had, indeed, been a pretty awful one. Max unclipped his seatbelt and kicked open his door, apparently startling Nux out of his thoughts enough for the boy to do the same. "You want to get pizza?" Max offered, finally breaking the silence.

 

Nux shrugged, slamming the car door once he got out, and headed towards the house. "I'm not hungry," he said. That wasn't particularly unusual; lately Max had to practically force him to eat. Side effect of quitting cocaine, apparently.

 

"Well, I'm gonna order one anyway," he decided, shutting the door behind him as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

 

"Aren't you supposed to go somewhere tonight?" Nux pointed out, collapsing on the couch. He looked tired.

 

Max paused and closed his phone. "Yeah. But I'm gonna cancel. Just have a night in," he said carefully, moving to sit next to Nux. He went to put his arm around the other, but Nux sat up and leaned away.

 

"You don't have to babysit me, Max. I'll be fine by myself," he said shortly, glancing at Max but not meeting his eyes.

 

Max had told Gyro that he'd get a drink with him that night. Gyro was pretty easygoing, but if he cancelled tonight, it would be the fourth time in a row and Max hated flaking out on plans. And Nux didn't seem to want him here, anyway. Maybe some alone time would be good for the kid.

 

"Alright," he agreed finally, pushing himself to his feet with a wince. He stopped to take a twenty out of his wallet and dropped it on the coffee table. "Make sure you eat something, okay? I won't be out long," he said. Nux nodded a little, still not looking at him, and Max leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

  
  


 

* * *

Gyro stared at him over the grimy barroom table. It was a weeknight, so only a few regulars occupied the bar, most of them sitting on stools in ones or pairs, talking over the low music or staring sullenly into their drinks.

"Well," Gyro said, pausing for effect to take a drink of his beer. "You are definitely mad."

 

Max scoffed and shook his head. "You're tellin' me," he muttered. He'd finished explaining, in bits and pieces, the story of the last few months, and hearing it said, aloud and altogether, was a little unbelievable, even for Max.

 

"Maybe he'll be good for you," Gyro said encouragingly.

 

Max looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, and Gyro laughed.

 

"I'm serious, Rockatansky. Younger guy will help you lighten up a little. You're too damn morose for someone in his twenties. He seems like a good kid, anyway. Got a bit of a rough start, but who hasn't?"

 

Max shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "If I had known I'd be getting into all this, I would've picked another station," he said.

 

"No, you wouldn't have. You love it here; I can tell. You like them girls, and you really like that kid. Max," Gyro leaned forward, looking eager, and Max steeled himself for one of Gyro's typical, painful insights. "It's not a bad thing to be happy. You gotta stop forcing yourself to be miserable. It's not good for ya."

 

"I'm not—"

 

"Oh, save it, Max. You've tortured yourself enough. Now, there's two things in life a man's got no control over: love, and death. You can let those things tear you apart, or, you can roll with the punches and take a little happiness when you can find it. Being a martyr isn't gonna help anyone, and you know exactly what I'm talking about when I say that."

 

Max took a long drink from his beer and set it back down on the table. Alcohol always helped him tolerate the Captain's harsh truths. "Guess you're right," he muttered, grudgingly, shortly.

 

Gyro slapped his hand on the table, making Max jump a little. "Damn straight, I'm right!" he nearly shouted, grinning. He held up his beer, and Max obediently bumped his glass into the Captain's, and they both took another drink.

 

Once they set their glasses down, Gyro looked at his empty mug and then back at Max. "Another?" he asked.

 

Max glanced at his watch and shook his head. He'd had two, and it had been forty-five minutes already. "I should get back," he said, and drained the rest of his beer. "Thanks for the talk, Captain," he added, only a little sardonically.

 

Gyro stood with him and clapped his shoulder, laughing. "Anytime, mate. Have a good night, huh?" he said with a wink.

 

Max grinned a little and shook his head as they both started for the door.

 

The bar where they'd met was only about a ten minute drive from Max's house, but he made it in a little over five. He felt oddly anxious. He'd only been gone for a little under an hour, but for some reason he regretted going out at all and he just wanted to be home.

 

When he got inside, all the lights were still on in the living room, but the house was quiet. "Nux!" Max called, but there was no response. Not even the TV was on, which was odd. Nux usually liked background noise of some kind, if he wasn't making a racket himself. The money he'd left was still on the table. Nux hadn't eaten. Max frowned and went to the back of the house to look in the back yard, but the shed's lights weren't on, so he started back towards the living room to go and check upstairs.

 

As he passed the bathroom, though, light filtering into the hallway floor caught the edge of his vision and he turned towards it, frowning a little. Nux should have heard him when he called. Should have said something. "Nux?" he repeated, stepping closer to the door. He rapped his knuckles a couple times against the wood and waited a moment. He didn't hear anything, but then his heartbeat was pounding in his ears like a drum and when he raised his hand to grab the knob, he had to grasp it tight to stop his shaking. He didn't even try to convince himself there was nothing to worry about. Something wasn't right.

 

He sucked in a deep breath to steel himself and pushed open the door.

 

Nux was sitting on the ledge of the bathtub. He didn't seem to notice Max—he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging down between his shoulders. In his hands, he turned Max's pistol restlessly, staring down at the black matte metal.

 

For a few seconds, Max was frozen with indecision. He wanted to rush forward, grab the gun—he didn't know what else. That was all instinct. But he didn't know if Nux had loaded the gun, or what the kid wanted to do with it. A little bit of him hoped Nux had been planning on shooting him when he walked in the door, because even that would be better than knowing he'd left a depressed and apparently suicidal teenager home alone with a gun.

 

"Nux?" he said again, softly this time. He cautiously stepped closer, watching Nux carefully, and knelt in front of him. He set his hand over Nux's to stop his twitching, and Nux finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he'd been crying, but if he had been, he wasn't anymore. He looked...tired. Max glanced down at the gun and slowly pulled it out of Nux's grasp.

 

"Something wrong with your gun. Wouldn't shoot," Nux said, and barked a humorless laugh.

 

Max leaned away for a moment to set the pistol on the counter by the sink, then turned back and settled one hand on the back of Nux's neck. He felt the boy shudder under the touch, as though the muscles there had been tense all day and finally relaxed. "What were you doing?" he murmured, pulling Nux close to bump their foreheads together lightly.

 

"What's it look like?" Nux snapped, but didn't pull away. He choked back a sob, his body hitching with the effort, and turned a little to gesture at the wall of the shower. "Woulda been easy to clean," he said consideringly, his voice only wavering a little bit.

 

Max growled and put his other arm around Nux's waist, dragging him down to the floor to wrap him in a tight hug. At first Nux was rigid in his arms, but then he slowly relaxed, and after a few moments, his hands crept up Max's back to grasp at the fabric and his head dropped to Max's shoulder. He heaved a sigh, sounding even more exhausted than he looked.

 

"I can't do this, Max," he finally mumbled. Max almost didn't understand him, his voice low and muffled against his shoulder.

 

"Can't—what?" he managed to ask, forcing his voice to steady. He moved one hand up to the back of Nux's head, running his fingers over the shaved, prickly hair.

 

"Any of it. That fucking test, it didn't make any sense. And the lawyers and all their stupid questions. And quitting coke. I can't do any of it. Slit was right - I'm nothing without them; I'm useless," he rambled, not lifting his head.

 

Max reluctantly loosened his hold on Nux and pulled away. "Hey. Look at me," he said, ducking his head to catch Nux's eye. "Do you trust me?"

 

Nux hesitated for only a second, looking at Max with a strange mix of curiosity and misery.

 

Max nodded. "Okay. If you trust me, you'll believe me when I say it's gonna get better," he said, moving his hand to cup Nux's cheek. "I promise. You just gotta stick with me. Okay?"

 

Again, Nux paused, studying Max's face with an unreadable expression, but finally he nodded.

 

Max forced himself to smile and leaned close to press a chaste kiss to Nux's lips. "You mean a lot to me. And Capable. You ain't nothing," he said softly.

 

Nux nodded, but he wouldn't meet Max's eyes anymore and he didn't look any less miserable. For a moment, Max was at a loss. He couldn't fix what had happened with the test; he wasn't even totally sure why that had gone to hell so fast.  And of course for now there was nothing to be done about easing the process for the trial or making quitting a hard drug any easier. Suddenly, it occurred to Max that none of those things were really the issue. It was the elephant in the room that both of them had resolutely ignored for weeks now, the only thing Nux was struggling with that he didn't mention.

 

Slit.

 

"Come on," Max said, grabbing the counter to pull himself to his feet. Nux looked up at him with muted curiosity, but didn't move until Max held his hand out to help him to his feet. "I want to show you something."

 

Max led the way up to the bedroom, for now leaving the gun in the bathroom. He would come back later and put it somewhere else; lock it up, in all likeliness. Right now, he wanted to take Nux's mind off of it.

 

He flipped on the lightswitch for the bedroom once they got inside and sat on his side of the bed, gesturing for Nux to sit next to him. The pictures of Jessie and Sprog were still in the second drawer of his bedside table; Nux hadn't touched them since he'd dismantled half of Max's room, sitting alone all day cuffed to the bed. It seemed like so long ago.

 

Once he'd dug them out of the bottom of the drawer, he paused to look at the picture on top of the small stack. It was of Jessie, smiling brightly with Sprog propped on her hip, frosting from a cake smeared on his face and hands. Max stared at it for a second, then cleared his throat and tilted it towards Nux to show him. "That's, ah, Jessie. And that's Sprog. My wife and my son," he explained, slowly for his own sake. He barely trusted his voice. This would be the first time he told someone else the story without being under legal obligation. "She played the saxophone. Really good," he added, surprising himself with a chuckle. He didn't know why he'd said that; it had just come out. When he glanced at Nux, he was met with the boy's huge blue eyes on him, curious and...concerned. Max looked back down at the pictures. "I loved them. A lot. But, uh, they died. They were killed. It was a gang, called themselves the Toecutters. I was out working one night, and...Jessie called me." Max felt his voice straining and stopped himself, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. A tentative arm found its way around his back and he smiled a little as Nux settled his head on Max's shoulder. "Jessie called me and said I needed to come home because Sprog was missing," he continued finally, forcing the words out. "And then—she, uh, said there was someone in the house. I was driving home, and I heard—" Max cut himself off and took a deep breath, set down the pictures on his lap for a moment. "I listened to them kill her. And then Sprog. I was the first person there...nothing I've seen, since then or before, made me feel the way I did when I saw them." Max stopped again and reached up to rub his forehead, but dropped his hand when Nux pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He turned a little and Nux picked up his head to meet Max's eyes. "Nux, no one's expecting you to get over Slit. People don't get over something like this. It...it hurts. And I can't tell you that will get better. But it does get a little easier to carry, if you let someone help you."   
  


Nux looked a little lost—he looked away and his eyes wandered around the room as though something in there might tell him what to say. "I—I just...I miss him," he finally stammered, looking back at Max helplessly. "I know you didn't like him, but he wasn't so bad. He was just like me; he just wanted to be good for Dad, and they were all I had and it's all...it's all gone now. I don't know what to do," he continued, and when he looked about to cry he dropped his head, leaning heavily against Max. "Everything's so...hard."

 

Max put his arm around Nux and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I know it's tough to start over like this. But you're tough, huh?"

 

"I don't feel tough," Nux muttered grudgingly.

 

Max smiled a little in spite of himself. "Well, you are. But it's alright to not feel tough sometimes."

 

Nux just snorted in response, and Max's grin widened.

 

"Hey, I'm serious. That's why we have each other. You don't have to act tough around me."

 

"Yeah I do. You're kamikrazee, Mad Max."

 

Max thought he heard a hint of a smile in Nux's voice and he frowned, looking down at the kid. "Gyro told you about that, didn't he?"

 

Nux picked up his head to glance at Max, a small grin teasing at the edges of his lips as he nodded.

 

Max shook his head. "You're not talking to him anymore," he said, but laughed a little anyway, and felt the tightness that had settled in his chest ease a little when Nux laughed with him. "How are you feeling?" he added more gently after a moment.

 

Nux's smile faded somewhat and he shrugged. "Tired," he admitted reluctantly.

 

"You want dinner before bed?"

 

Nux shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I just want to sleep," he said.

 

Max nodded and leaned close to kiss him again. This time, Nux returned it, and smiled thinly again when Max pulled away. "I love you," Max reminded him.

 

"I love you, too."

 

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take Nux long to fall asleep that night. Max stayed awake for a while, listening to Nux's even breathing in the darkness of the bedroom. He found that he didn't much want to move; it was nice, just laying there. But eventually, he carefully disentangled himself from Nux's long limbs and crept out of the bedroom to go back downstairs.

 

The bathroom light was still on, and when he picked up the gun to unload it and lock it up, he saw for the first time a piece of folded lined paper, torn from a notebook, on the sink counter. He set down the gun to pick it up and unfold it, frowning a little at the barely legible handwriting. It wasn't messy, just...shaky, like how a child learning to write copies letters. At first, he almost couldn't read it for the spelling, but when he looked closer he was able to decipher what the note was saying.

 

Sorree for doing this i love u and capabl but im no us nemoor i hop evrything werks owt.

 

For a few minutes, Max studied the succinct letter, reading over it several times before he slowly folded it up again. It was an issue he could save for tomorrow, but perhaps the solution to at least one of Nux's difficulties was closer at hand than Max had thought.


	18. Trials and Tribulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! Thanks to twiggzzler again for helping me figure out what the hell I was doing and editing this beast. This story wouldn't be any good without her making sure I don't miss the little stuff.
> 
> I know nothing about court. Like, nothing about American courts and even less about Australian courts. From what I've read, it seems this trial would take place in the Northern Territory Supreme Court. Probably all of this is highly unrealistic. I have no excuse, and I'm awfully sorry. But I hope you enjoy anyway!

"Car...Carb? Carb—what the fuck is this word?"

 

"Carburetor," Max read patiently off the paper, leaning closer to look over Nux's shoulder at the study guide. "Like what you tried to name the cat, you know?"

 

"Yeah, I know what a carburetor is, but it shouldn't be spelled like that. There's an o in there where an e should be," Nux griped, sitting back in his chair and running his hands over his head then scratching at it. The prosecutor had suggested he grow out his hair as a sign he was trying to assimilate into regular society, but Max could tell it was driving the kid crazy. It was fast-growing, already an inch or so long, and Nux was always scratching his scalp. Max didn't know what he'd expected, but he found himself a little surprised that it grew in straight and brown.

 

"Well, but it sounds like an e, like in rotor, remember?"

 

"You said that was only at the end of a word! If it sounds like an e, why isn’t it an e?" Nux challenged, raising his eyebrow at Max.

 

Max sighed and cast about for an answer, and found he didn't have one. "We'll come back to this later," he decided, pausing to glance at his watch. "We need to get ready, anyhow."

 

Nux's shoulders slumped and he gave a small nod. Max had done his best to keep the kid distracted all morning, but Nux's testimony at Joe's trial was scheduled for that day and the anticipation had been hovering over both of them like a black cloud. It would be good to get it over with, Max told himself. Take some weight off their shoulders. But he was keeping a close eye on Nux, and that wouldn't end until well after the trial. He'd locked the gun up, but there was more than one way for a man to kill himself. He hadn't told Capable about that night, but he'd mentioned to her that he was worried that Nux would hurt himself. That had been enough. She'd cleared what she could of her schedule, and between the two of them and Ace, Nux was rarely alone.

 

The prosecutor had warned them from the start that Joe's trial would be a long one, and his prediction was right—it had been in court for weeks already. Although he hadn't posted bail, Joe had plenty of money for the best defense attorney in the territory, which was why a War Boy's testimony, Nux's testimony, was so important. Until today, most of the evidence was tenuous at best, circumstantial and nothing the jury could convict on. The women had already testified, but they themselves had never seen Joe commit any crime except sexual assault, which was much more difficult to prove beyond a reasonable doubt without a rape kit having ever been done on any one of them. They hadn't liked it, but they'd agreed with the prosecutor that it was a safer bet to focus on convicting Joe for drug trafficking, which, with the amount that he'd bought and sold, was enough to put him away for several lifetimes.

 

Nux had never been jailed for distribution, but it turned out he'd had a hand in more drug deals than he could even remember. Thankfully, the prosecutor had been able to determine the exact dates of the largest deals and trades with Nux's help. It wouldn't be the last day of the trial, but it may well be the tipping point in their favor.

 

The suit they'd found for Nux was well-fitted, but he still didn't look quite right in it. Max couldn't tell if that was because of the scars, or the way he kept fidgeting. As soon as he was fully dressed, he constantly tugged at the sleeves or plucked the collar; he rarely wore a shirt if he didn't have to, and when he did it, was always a loose t-shirt. Max was willing to bet he'd never been in a suit his whole life.

 

"Looks good," Max grinned at him as he picked up the keys.

 

Nux glared at him. "Shut up," he muttered, tugging impatiently at the tie.

 

Max laughed and led the way out to the car.

 

Most of the drive there, Nux filled the silence with nervous chatter, but as they drew closer to the courthouse, he fell quiet, shifting frequently in his seat and busying his hands disassembling Max's car charger. Max didn't have the heart to make him stop.

 

Nux glanced up at the courthouse when Max put the car in park, and sighed. "Max," he began, but trailed off and didn't finish the thought.

 

"I know," Max said, reaching over to lay a reassuring hand on Nux's shoulder. "You'll do fine."

 

It was busy in the courthouse, full of reporters and everyone else who wanted to see what was probably the highest-profile trial of the decade. Joe and his gang had been plaguing the city for years with violence and drug trafficking, and now it was finally coming to an end. A lot of people wanted to see that end.

 

Max himself was in plainclothes, but had been authorized by the department to bring his issued pistol in case anything happened. A lot of War Boys were still running around the city, and there were sure to be some there. Furiosa had told him that Rictus hadn't missed a day yet, but Max didn't see him right away. He looked first for Furiosa herself. She wasn't hard to spot, standing apart from the crowds with the other women gathered around her. Max headed for them, glancing back to make sure Nux was following him.

 

"Rockatansky," Furiosa greeted as he came closer.

 

Max grunted a greeting to the small group, taking another look around the room as Capable moved to Nux's other side. "How are you feeling?" she asked, grabbing his hand and putting it by his side when Nux went to yank at his collar again.

 

"Never been better," he replied sarcastically, his eyes flitting around the room anxiously.

 

Capable smacked his arm and frowned, then rubbed the spot she'd just hit. "Quit that. You'll be fine. You remember all the questions, right?"

 

Nux nodded and shifted on his feet. "Yeah, I remember. How long before it starts?"

 

Capable looked at her watch. "About...fifteen minutes, I think."

 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he muttered, taking off towards the doorway with a sign reading "Restrooms" above it.

 

"If you're not back in five minutes, I'm coming to get you!" Max called after him. Nux didn't give any indication he'd heard. He'd started looking a little sick as soon as they'd stepped foot in the courthouse, so Max didn't really expect him to be out in five minutes. Sure enough, the time limit hit and there was still no sign of Nux.

 

So, Max slipped away from the group and headed towards the bathroom door. He'd kept an eye on it while Nux was inside, and hadn't seen anyone go in or out. He was surprised, then, when he pushed open the door and the first thing he saw was Rictus's hulking mass in the corner by the sinks, caging Nux between himself and the intersection of the two walls.

 

"Hey," Max barked, stepping closer as his hand went automatically to the pistol on his hip, covered by his shirt. "What's going on?"

 

Rictus turned and narrowed his eyes at Max. He started to step closer, but his eye caught on Max's hand and he stopped. "Just talking," he said.

 

"Get out." For a few tense seconds, Rictus didn't move and Max prepared to draw his gun, but finally he muttered something Max couldn't hear and brushed past him to go out the door.

 

Max turned to watch him go, and when he looked back to Nux again, the boy had already taken off towards one of the stalls. The boy dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and retched into it, grasping the edges of the lid with a whiteknuckled grip.

 

Max sighed and cautiously stepped up behind him, reaching out to rub his shoulder gently until Nux sat up straight again, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shit," he muttered.

 

"Are you good?" Max asked, helping him up as Nux started to stand.

 

Nux nodded a little, but now that Max had a good look at him, he could see Nux was pale as death, and otherwise didn't look a whole lot better.

 

"What did he say to you?"

 

Nux shook his head and shrugged, stepping over to a sink to wash his shaking hands. "Nothing I haven't heard already," he said, almost too low for Max to hear. He rinsed his mouth and grabbed a paper towel to dry his hand off and turned to face Max again.

 

Max pursed his lips, but decided not to pursue it. Instead, he glanced at his watch. "They're probably about to start. Are you ready?" he asked, looking up at Nux critically again.

 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Nux replied, but didn't move for a moment. Finally, he pushed away from the sink and stepped closer to Max to wrap his arms around him in a tight hug. A small smile touched Max's lips as he returned it, but then Nux was pulling away and heading for the door.

 

The courtroom where Joe's trial was being held was packed already by the time they got inside. On the left side of the room, several War Boys, dressed in regular clothes, milled about near the bar—none of them seemed to notice as Max and Nux entered and went behind the seats to make their way to the other side. Joe was already seated at the table, talking in low voices with his attorney, inaudible over the conversations of everyone else in the courtroom.

 

Furiosa waved them over to the other side of the room just behind the prosecutor's table, where she and the others sat. Capable pulled Nux down to sit beside her, but Max didn't have time to overanalyze that before Furiosa was gesturing for him to stand at the wall beside her. It gave them both a decent vantage point to the rest of the courtroom. Max doubted anything bad would happen—besides himself and Furiosa, there were several uniformed officers at the exits and inside the room.

 

The courtroom settled as the judge was announced and stepped up to his seat, wearing his customary wig and red robe. Max didn't listen to the opening statements, too busy watching the seated crowd, evaluating the odds of any of the War Boys doing something reckless, but when Nux was called to the stand his attention was drawn to the front of the courtroom as Nux took the steps up to the seat to the judge's left. He stayed standing, and fumbled through the oath, then quickly took his seat. His bright eyes followed the prosecutor, staying resolutely away from Joe and the other War Boys. Good. Maybe this wouldn't go too badly, Max thought.

 

It started out with a few cursory questions. The prosecutor asked his name, approximate age, and how long he had been in Immortan Joe's gang.

 

"Please explain to the jury what kind of position you held within the War Boys gang, what your job was."

 

"I was a driver. So I had my own car and I would sometimes get things for Im—for, uh, Moore." It was still a struggle for him to refer to Joe as anything other than Immortan, Max knew.

 

"What kind of things would you get for Moore?" the prosecutor, whose name was Miller, asked.

 

"Weapons and drugs, usually," Nux said. His eyes flickered away and Max frowned.

 

"I would like to present to the jury a list of dates, accompanied by the items and amounts transported on those dates. The next sheet details the items found in Moore's possession when his property was searched under warrant," Miller explained. He went through the entire sheet, asking Nux specifics on each date, and whether he'd interacted with Joe on any of those dates regarding the various movements. Of course, he had. They'd chosen only dates when Nux had spoken directly to Joe about it, to eliminate any possibility of the defense suggesting it would be circumstantial.

 

The list of dates was long, but just when it became monotonous, a shout interrupted them. "You're filth! Traitoring piece of--"

 

Max looked over just in time to see the source of the disturbance, a War Boy who looked about Nux's age, being dragged out of the room by two of the uniformed officers. The judge called for order and the room settled down, but Max could see the glint of fear in Nux's eyes when he looked at the kid again. Well, shit. So much for today going well.

 

A rather tense silence overtook the room as Miller went through the rest of the list. Nux began fumbling over his answers, fidgeting more and more often in his seat and reaching up to pull at his collar. His eyes flickered over to Joe a few more times, but mostly he still kept his eyes on the prosecutor.

 

Once they had thoroughly dissected the list, Miller set his papers down and turned back to Nux again. "You said you transported weapons and drugs, usually. Was there anything else?"

 

"Sometimes...people."

 

"Were these people traveling of their own will?"

 

"Uh, sometimes. Not always."

 

"Did Mr. Moore ever ask you to kidnap anyone?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Who?"

 

"Uh, a woman named Splendid Angharad. And their son."

 

"Were you successful?"

 

"No."   
  
"What happened?"

 

"There was, um, an accident. When we were trying to, uh, take her. And she died."

 

Miller nodded slowly, pausing.

 

"And that was when you decided to turn yourself in to the police?"

 

Nux nodded, swallowing hard.

 

"Please answer verbally."

 

"Yes, that's when I turned myself in."

 

Miller nodded again and turned towards the judge. "That's all I have, Your Honour."

 

The judge nodded and turned to the defense attorney. "Do you have any questions for the witness?"

 

"Yes, Your Honour," the attorney said, standing up as Miller sat.

 

Here we go, Max thought to himself, and was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes. If there was one kind of person he couldn't stand, it was defense attorneys. Miller had warned them, more than once, that the cross-examination would likely be the most intimidating part of the trial. And, when Max looked at him, Nux appeared quite intimidated.

 

The attorney picked up a thick file and held it up. "I have here the witness's criminal offense record. If I detailed every one of them, we'd be here...well, several more weeks. I won't do that. I'd just like to ask a few questions about a few of the incidents listed here. Nux, would you say most of the crimes you committed were under order of someone else?"

 

Nux's gaze flickered to the side to lock eyes briefly with Max and he nodded. "Yeah," he said. Max could see him rubbing his hands on his knees nervously. It sounded like a trick question.

 

"Hm," the attorney said. Max bristled at his tone. He flipped through a couple of the pages. "On July seventeeth, one year ago, you and a companion were arrested for assault for a bar fight, in a bar which you illegally entered with a fake ID. Was this assault by direction of someone, anyone, perhaps, in the War Boys gang?"

 

"Well, not—no," Nux admitted, fidgeting in his seat.

 

The attorney nodded and made a show of flipping a few more pages. "Two years ago, in August, you were charged with perjury, for lying to an officer of the law, along with a charge on the same date for driving underage under the influence of drugs. Was either the DWI or the perjury by order of another War Boy?"

 

Nux shook his head. "No," he said shortly. He sounded choked. Max crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, staring at the attorney.

 

"Were you offered a plea bargain for the vehicular manslaughter of Splendid Angharad and Jax Angharad in exchange for your testimony in this trial?"

 

"Your Honour," Miller interrupted. Finally , Max thought. "I object to the question. The witness--"

 

"Withdrawn," the defense attorney said, before Miller could finish the objection. "Your Honour, the only solid evidence the prosecution has presented is based on a delinquent whose testimony is unreliable, at best. I ask Your Honour to strike the testimony from the evidence in this trial."

 

The judge was silent for a moment. His eyes moved slowly over the room, deliberating in the silence. "I will consider the request," he finally said, and looked at his watch. "We will adjourn for the day."

 

Max sighed and slowly relaxed, watching the crowd filter out of the room through the only public  entrance. His attention was pulled away when he caught sight of Nux out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to offer a reassuring smile, hoping his anxiousness didn't show on his face. If the judge decided to throw away Nux's testimony, the trial would be a bust. Part of him wished they would have waited longer, gotten more and better evidence. But it was too late now. Still, it wouldn't do any good to put that kind of stress on Nux. He was dealing with enough as it was, and the fact that he'd gone through with the testimony was enough to convince Max, if he hadn't been convinced already, that Nux was all in. He wanted a guilty verdict as much as the rest of them, maybe more.

 

Nux, however, wasn't fooled. "I fucked it up, didn't I?" he said as soon as he was at Max's side, looking at Max miserably.

 

"No, you didn't fuck it up. You did what you were supposed to. Now we just have to... wait."


	19. The Long Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, it's been a while. Sorry for the long absence and the awful wait, I know how that is. I hate writing endings, and work and school have been insane these last months. But I pulled through for you! I'm thinking about starting another work, another Mad Max AU, but I don't want to get your hopes up, especially because I'm anticipating another long absence.
> 
> So this is the official end of this work. I'm planning on writing some one-shots in the same verse, so let me know if there's anything you'd like to see!

Max was smiling as he stepped into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. "Nux!" he called out as he went to the couch, setting down the box he'd been carrying under his arm and flipping the lid off of it. He took out the pair of sturdy boots inside and straightened up, taking them with him as he started towards the hall.

 

There was no response to his call, so he went out the back door and started over to the shed. Sure enough, as he drew closer to the open side of the shed he could see the hood of the Oldsmobile propped up, and hear the metallic clicking of a ratchet wrench. The smile, which had hardly left his face since he'd gotten the good news, widened a little. "Nux!" he said again. As soon as Nux appeared on the side of the car, Max tossed him the pair of new boots that he’d stopped by the store on his way home to pick up. The kid had needed a new pair for a while now.

 

Nux barely managed to catch them, but before he could say anything, Max continued, "Good news. Jury came back with a verdict finally. Minimum sentencing is a lifetime with no chance of parole," he reported, stepping closer and ruffling a hand over Nux's short hair. "Your testimony helped a lot. I'm proud of you, Nux."

 

Nux grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I'm just glad it's over," he admitted.

 

Max nodded. "I know. We all are," he said. He was silent for a moment, watching as Nux set the boots on the floor and put the ratchet on a flat part of the engine. "Once sentencing is finished, you know, you can, uh...you'll be able to start the emancipation paperwork. They'll be checkin' in on you until you're eighteen, but if you keep your nose clean til then they're gonna expunge your record." He hesitated and leaned against the metal table, now cluttered with tools and parts Nux had procured or gutted from the Oldsmobile. "Where, uh, where are you planning on going?" he asked, as casually as he could manage. He didn't want to ask, but he had to. Soon they'd have to start making arrangements, get Nux a bus or a plane ticket to wherever he wanted to start his new life, free from Joe and the War Boys. The thought of that day, coming up far too soon, made a lump rise in Max's throat but he swallowed it back as best as he could.

 

"Going?" Nux asked, confusion coloring his tone. He hesitated, studying Max’s face. "What do you mean?"

 

Max raised his brow. "Yeah. Haven't thought about that at all?" he asked. If he were Nux that would be the only thing on his mind.

 

"No," Nux said slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I—I was going to, you know, stay here."

 

"But there's—" Max began, but stopped himself. There's what? War Boys without a leader, like so many dogs without an owner. Without Joe around, most of them would likely be arrested, prosecuted and convicted in short order, the aftermath of a drug lord being dethroned. It wouldn't be pretty, but in light of the new situation Max somehow doubted a low-level War Boy defector would be on their minds. "A lot of bad memories here," he finally finished, lamely. "You don't want to get away from that?"

 

Nux shrugged, dropping his arms but turning away from Max to snatch up the ratchet wrench again. "I have good memories here, too," he pointed out, but the way he said it, short and cool as he returned to his banging around in the engine, sounded almost like an accusation.

 

"Sure," Max agreed, pushing himself off the table to walk around the Oldsmobile, joining Nux at the front of the car. Nux was upset, he could tell by the way the boy's back was stiff and he was yanking too hard on the handle of the ratchet. He thought Max was trying to get rid of him, Max surmised. "I do, too. Now," he added, trying to placate Nux. "But that doesn't mean—"

 

"I'll stay with Capable, maybe," Nux said, cutting him off. "Til I get enough money for a place."

 

Max sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. "Nux, just listen to me," he said, and when Nux didn't stop his work Max frowned. "Nux," he said, a little more tersely.

 

Nux huffed as though Max was asking a difficult task of him and slammed the ratchet down, looking over at Max expectantly.

 

"I'm not trying to make you leave," Max said. "I just want you to consider your options."

 

"Why?" Nux said, impatiently. "I don't want to go anywhere, Max. I don't know anyone, I've never even lived by myself. And look at my face!"

 

"There's nothing wrong with—" Max started.

 

"Bullshit! You know that's not true, Max. At least people around here know I used to be a War Boy, if I go somewhere else they're gonna think I'm a goddamn psychopath." Nux huffed again and shook his head, and when he looked up at Max again some of the anger in his eyes had melted away, replaced with budding fear. "I don't want to leave. You're—you guys are all I have," he added, a little more quietly.

 

Max wrestled with that for a moment, and when he couldn't think of anything to say he instead pulled Nux into a tight hug. "You're so young," he finally said, softly.

 

Nux returned the hug but shook his head, giving a shaky laugh. "I already got enough shit to sort out without having to do it by myself," he replied after a long moment, finally pulling away.

 

Max released him, but reached up to lay his hand on Nux's cheek, stroking a thumb over the raised scars on his lower lip. "I don't want you to feel like you have to stay. You're always welcome here. But...if you ever want to leave, just say the word."

 

Nux smiled and leaned closer to press a kiss to Max's lips, lingering but chaste. "I don't think I ever will," he said, and before Max could argue anymore Nux kissed him again, this time teasing his tongue at the seal of Max's lips, prompting him to part them and deepen the kiss.

 

Max hardly noticed they were moving until he felt the back of his legs hit the side of the car. Nux broke the kiss to nip and lick at Max's neck instead as his hands moved to undo his belt. "Out here?" Max grunted, but it was only a token protest—he was already sporting a semi, and as Nux slipped a hand into his jeans and palmed him through his boxers it was quickly swelling to a full-on erection.

 

Nux just chuckled and sank his teeth into Max's neck, a little harder than strictly necessary. "Why not," he said, giving Max's cock a light squeeze and forcing the man to cut himself off with a sharp breath.

 

As soon as Max was fully hard, Nux wasted no time dropping to his knees and tugging Max's pants and boxers low enough to release Max's dick. Max settled a hand on Nux's head, urging him closer, but Nux glanced up at him with a smirk and gave a teasing lick to the tip, drawing a low groan from Max. He repeated the action, then slid his lips along the length, mouthing and tonguing at the turgid flesh.

 

Max shivered and relaxed back against the car, keeping his eyes on Nux although the younger man was no longer looking at him, concentrated on his task. He always looked beautiful, but Max had to admit he looked especially good like this, on his knees with his lips on Max's cock.

 

When Nux finally wrapped those lips around him Max had to close his eyes, his fingers curling in Nux's short, soft hair. He had to resist the urge to buck his hips, thrust into the sinful heat of Nux's mouth, but his patience was rewarded when Nux finally stopped teasing him with little licks and sucks and swallowed him down. He paused there as Max groaned again and rolled his hips, but as soon as Max stilled Nux began to move again, slowly bobbing his head.

 

Max left his hand where it was, clutching at the soft locks of Nux’s hair, but let the boy set his own pace. Low, animal noises of pleasure escaped his throat, his hips twitching up into the slick heat occasionally although he tried hard to control himself. Usually Max had an iron grip on his libido but Nux was so good, and so enthusiastic. So…Nux.

 

Gradually, Max’s breathing grew ragged and uneven, and he moved his hand from where he’d been grasping the grill of the Oldsmobile to squeeze Nux’s shoulder instead, a low growl bubbling up from his chest as he felt the heat in his gut tighten. The hand in Nux’s hair moved around to grasp the back of his neck, holding the other still as he thrust himself deep into that constricting heat once, twice, and then came with a shudder and a low groan, his whole body wound tight as he rode out his orgasm. Nux swallowed him down easily, holding patiently still as Max spent himself in his throat, and didn’t pull away until Max’s grip slackened as he slowly relaxed.

 

Nux didn’t give him much peace. He was on his feet almost immediately, leaning his weight heavily against Max and rutting eagerly against his hip with a low moan, grasping at Max’s sides as he scraped his teeth over Max’s neck.

 

Max couldn’t help a chuckle and moved his hands to squeeze Nux’s hips, briefly, before they moved to undo his pants. He slid a hand underneath the fabric but only palmed lightly at the hard, hot length, grinning at the growl Nux gave in response. He teased him that way for a moment, until Nux was whining and clutching at him desperately, and then finally wrapped his hand around Nux’s cock, squeezing as he gave it a rough stroke. Nux gasped and bucked into the touch, muffling the soft noises that escaped him against Max’s throat. It didn’t take long. As much experience as Nux had sucking cock, Max had at least twice that and it hadn’t been hard to figure out which buttons to push. It didn’t hurt that Nux was so young. Max wondered if it was wrong, how much he enjoyed the way he could so easily manipulate the boy’s body, but Nux didn’t seem to have any problem with it. He clawed at Max’s back and sides, thrusting eagerly into Max’s tight grasp, and it wasn’t long before Max felt slick heat on his hand as Nux smothered a broken cry against his skin.

 

Max stroked him through his climax, and when Nux relaxed, quivering, against him he carefully pulled his hand away and turned his head to press a kiss to Nux’s temple, smiling to himself. For a moment, they were silent as they caught their breath, until Max gave Nux a gentle nudge, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Go clean up,” he rumbled. “I’ll make dinner.”

 

Nux grumbled but pulled back, looking down to do his pants up again. When he looked up again, Max frowned.

 

“You’re…bleeding,” he said, reaching up with his clean hand to swipe at the blood trailing down from Nux’s nose.

 

Nux pulled back, lifting his own hand to swipe the back of it over his upper lip. He stared at the shining red track it left. “Oh. Yeah,” he said, and dropped his hand as he glanced to Max. “Uh…guess I should drink some water,” he offered weakly, but he wouldn’t meet Max’s eyes.

 

Max could only give a noncommittal grunt in response, watching as Nux quickly set aside the tools he’d been using. “Meet you inside,” he said, but as he headed towards the door to the shed Max reached out to snag his wrist, pulling him back gently.

 

He reached up again, but this time laid his hand on the other’s cheek, stroking his thumb over the long scar there. “I love you, Nux,” he said, surprising even himself with the words. He’d thought it before, of course, but he hadn’t meant to say it.

 

Nux gave a nervous laugh, his eyes flickering around the room before they settled on Max again. He looked as though he was about to say something, but instead he leaned closer to press a brief, chaste kiss to Max’s lips. “I love you, too,” he muttered.

 

Max smiled, but he knew the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “If you ever need to tell me anything…you know, I’m here,” he said softly.

 

Nux nodded, pulling away, and Max couldn’t help but give a soft sigh as the younger man headed for the door again. This time, he didn’t try to stop him.

 

It took a while to find it. He had to admit, it was a good hiding place—Nux had torn up a little of the carpet in the trunk of the Oldsmobile and tucked it away there, in a little corner where it wouldn’t create a lump underneath the fabric. The only reason Max found it was because the edge of the carpet wasn’t quite aligned the right way, overlapping another part of the carpet giving away that it had been cut open.

 

Once his fingers touched the thin plastic Max’s knew his fears had been confirmed. _Again._ He knew recovering from a habit was never easy, but it didn’t stop the wave of despondency from hitting him. He really had thought that Nux had kicked it for good, he’d been doing so well—making progress in his reading and writing lessons, slowly recovering from Slit’s death, he seemed almost happy most of the time. Almost himself. But there was no way to tell how long he’d been using. Max silently cursed himself for not noticing sooner.

 

For a long time all he could do was stand there, the baggie in his fist as he braced his hands against the side of the Oldsmobile, staring dully at the faded black paint. After a time he roused himself and straightened up, forcing down the frustration that welled in his chest. Nux needed him now, needed him to be strong so he could get rid of this last barrier that chained him to his old life.

 

Max took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, doing his best to shake off the hopelessness that had climbed onto his back. Still holding the baggie tightly in his hand, he turned to head towards the house, steeling himself. It was going to be a long road.


End file.
